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A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


THE  PLAZA,  LOOKING  SOUTH,  SHOWING  THE  FOUNTAIN  OF  ABUNDANCE 
AGAINST  THE  CORNELIUS  VANDERBILT  HOUSE 
CARRERE  AND  HASTINGS,  ARCHITECTS  (PAGE  30S) 


"ABUNDANCE,-'  DETAIL  OF  THE  PLAZA  FOUNTAIN 
DESIGNED  BY  KARL  BITTER 
EXECUTED  BY  ISIDORE  KONTI 


A  LOITERER  IN  NEW 
YORK 


DISCOVERIES  MADE  BY  A  RAMBLER 
THROUGH  OBVIOUS  YET  UNSOUGHT 
HIGHWAYS  AND  BYWAYS 


BY 

HELEN  W.  HENDERSON 

AUTHOR  OF  "  THE  ART  TREASURES  OF  WASHINGTON," 
ETC.,  ETC. 


WITH  A  PREFACE  BY 
PAUL  W.  BARTLETT 


NEW  YORK 

GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


COPTRIGHT,  1917, 

HY  GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


TO 

BILLIE 

AND 

GILBERT  WHITE 

Souvenir  d’affection 


PREFACE 


To  a  traveller  the  thought  of  loitering  in  a  great 
city  is  more  suggestive  of  the  celebrated  haunts 
abroad  than  of  New  York.  It  conjures  visions 
of  Rome,  of  Venice,  of  Florence,  where  historical 
relics  and  works  of  art  are  found  at  every  turn. 
It  would  recall,  perhaps,  rambles  in  the  streets 
and  boulevards  of  Paris  and  the  innocent  joys  of 
the  Bouquineur  on  the  Quais ;  the  misty  mornings, 
the  quiet  afternoons,  and  evening  strolls  on  the 
banks  of  the  Seine.  It  would  perhaps  revive 
the  souvenir  of  the  delightful  feeling  of  peaceful 
comfort  and  “  nearness  ”  to  the  Past,  so  readily 
enjoyed  in  the  sombre  byways  and  the  gay  and 
bustling  highways  of  London.  Things  are  life- 
size  abroad  and  supremely  human  too.  There 
one  is  encouraged  to  dream  and  to  think,  and 
loitering  is  an  art! 

With  these  thoughts  in  mind  it  seems  difficult, 
at  first  glance,  to  see  how  one  could  really  loiter 
here.  The  consciousness  of  one’s  self  is  easily 
lost  in  the  presence  of  our  superhuman  buildings. 
The  sky-line,  however  grand,  is  far  away,  and  a 
profound  feeling  of  awe  replaces  that  of  intimacy 
and  charm.  The  works  of  art  are  difficult  to 

vii 


Vlll 


PREFACE 


find,  and  the  “  ambience  ”  of  ceaseless  and 
strenuous  activity  precludes  all  hope  of  peaceful 
meditation  to  those  who  do  not  know  the  nooks 
and  corners  where  the  Past  still  lingers  with  the 
Present. 

This  book,  in  reality  the  History  of  the 
Romance  and  Art  of  Manhattan,  fortunately 
comes  to  our  rescue.  The  traveller  will  find  it 
a  friendly  and  willing  guide;  he  will  be  lured 
on,  over  the  old  Boston  Post  Road,  along 
Broadway  and  Fifth  Avenue,  his  curiosity  and 
interest  always  kept  alive;  and  half-forgotten 
mysteries  will  be  disclosed  to  him  while  on  the 
way. 

The  lover  of  New  York  may  rejoice  in  the 
folk-lore  tales  of  “  hamlet  ”  and  “  bouwerie,” 
retold  in  sympathetic  and  feeling  words,  and  in 
the  remembrance  of  revered  landmarks,  beauti¬ 
fully  described. 

The  artist  and  connoisseur,  on  the  other  hand, 
may  find  much  to  admire  in  the  author’s  appre¬ 
ciation  of  art  and  in  her  joy  to  praise.  They 
will  be  touched  by  her  quiet  persistence  in  calling 
attention  to  things  worth  while,  and  amused  by 
her  skill  in  dealing  with  unfortunate  works,  so 
common  with  us,  which,  with  a  few  casual  words, 
are  deftly  set  aside,  so  deftly  indeed  that,  at  times, 
one  scarcely  realizes  the  strength  and  justice  of 
her  criticism. 


PREFACE 


IX 


Miss  Helen  Henderson,  a  true  art  critic  with¬ 
out  the  pretensions  of  a  critic,  is  particularly  well 
equipped  for  a  work  of  this  kind.  She  had  the 
good  fortune,  after  completing  her  studies  at  the 
Pennsylvania  Academy  of  the  Fine  Arts,  to  spend 
some  years  abroad,  to  come  in  contact  with  most 
of  the  modern  masters,  and  to  live  in  the  midst 
of  the  artistic  and  literary  activities  of  Paris  and 
London. 

To-day  her  opinions  are  based  on  real  under¬ 
standing,  her  emotions  and  intuitions  have  been 
tempered  by  years  of  literary  experience,  and 
her  sense  of  the  psychology  of  human  events  is 
mellowed  by  a  kind  philosophy,  which  is  not 
devoid,  however,  of  a  gentle  touch  of  humour. 

In  bringing  the  art  treasures  of  the  city  nearer 
to  us,  in  reminding  us  that  there  are  still  traces 
of  Poetry  and  Romance  left  in  Manhattan,  Miss 
Henderson  has  done  a  good  and  worthy  work. 

The  gentle  irony  of  her  title  leads  me  to 
believe  that  she  has  little  hope  of  persuading 
many  New  Yorkers  to  loiter;  but  if  any  book 
could  teach  them  to  “  idle,”  and  to  “  idle  ”  with 
pleasure  and  profit,  it  is  certainly  “A  Loiterer 
in  New  York.” 

Paul  W.  Bartlett. 

New  York,  23  September,  1917. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

PAGE 

I. 

The  Picture . 

15 

II. 

Manahachtanienk . 

27 

III. 

Dutch  Dominion . 

38 

IV. 

English  Rule . 

57 

V. 

The  Old  Town . 

71 

VI. 

Trinity  Church  .  .  .  . 

102 

VII. 

The  City  Hall . 

125 

VIII. 

Bouwerie  Village . 

152 

IX. 

Greenwich  Village — The  Bossen  Bouwerie  . 

179 

X. 

Washington  Square . 

200 

XI. 

Gramercy  Park  ...... 

223 

XII. 

Union  and  Madison  Squares 

238 

XIII. 

Murray  Hill . 

266 

XIV. 

The  Avenue . 

286 

XV. 

The  Plaza . 

306 

XVI. 

Central  Park  East — Yorkville  . 

318 

XVII. 

Central  Park  West — Bloemendaal  . 

343 

XVIII. 

Columbia  Heights . 

356 

XIX, 

Inwood — Manhattanville  to  Kingsbridge  . 

387 

XX. 

Brooklyn — The  Sculpture  of  Frederick 

MacMonnies . 

405 

XXI. 

Brooklyn’s  Battle  Marks  .... 

425 

XXII. 

Random  Decorations . 

si 

437 

4 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


The  Plaza,  Looking  South  ....  Frontispiece 
“  Abundance.”  By  Karl  Bitter.  Detail  of 
the  Plaza  Fountain . 

PAGE 

“  Under  the  Brooklyn  Bridge.”  By  Ernest  Lawson  18 
“  Brooklyn  Bridge.”  By  Edward  W.  Redfield  .  24 

“Night:  New  York  from  Brooklyn  Heights.”  By 


Edward  W.  Redfield . 30 

“  Indians  of  Manhattan.”  By  Barry  Faulkner  .  40 

“  Landing  of  Henry  Hudson.”  By  Barry  Faulkner  40 

Colonel  Abraham  de  Peyster.  By  Georger  Edwin 
Bissell . 46 

“  Fort  Orange  in  the  Seventeenth  Century.”  By 
Elmer  E.  Garnsey . 50 

“  Asia.”  By  Daniel  Chester  French.  United  States 
Custom  House . 50 

The  Duke’s  Plan  of  New  Amsterdam  ...  54 

Joost  Hartgers’  View  of  New  Amsterdam  .  54 

George  Washington.  By  J.  Q.  A.  Ward.  Sub- 
Treasury  Building . 74 

“  Africa.”  By  Daniel  Chester  French.  United 
States  Custom  House  ......  88 

“  England.”  By  Charles  Grafly.  United  States 
Custom  House . 88 

“  New  Amsterdam  in  the  Seventeenth  Century.”  By 

Elmer  E.  Garnsey . 92 

xiii 


XIV 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 


“  France.”  By  Charles  Grafly.  United  States  Cus¬ 
tom  House . 92 

Main  Portal  Trinity  Church.  By  Karl  Bitter  .  104 

Recumbent  Statue  of  Morgan  Dix.  By  Isidore 
Konti.  Trinity  Church . 108 

Bust  of  Alexander  Hamilton.  Trinity  Church  .  108 

John  Watts.  By  George  Edward  Bissell.  Trinity 
Churchyard . 108 

Wilson  Memorial  Cross.  Trinity  Churchyard  .  116 

Reverse  of  Wilson  Memorial  Cross  .  .  .  .116 

All  Saints’  Chapel . 120 

City  Hall.  The  Wall  View . 126 

Corridor  Screen.  City  Hall . 126 

Rotunda  and  Stairway.  City  Hall  ....  132 

The  Portico.  City  Hall . 132 

The  Mayor’s  Reception  Room.  City  Hall  .  .  138 

“  The  Marquis  de  Lafayette.”  By  Samuel  F.  B. 

Morse . 138 

Nathan  Hale.  By  Frederick  MacMonnies  .  .142 

Horace  Greeley.  Bv  J.  Q.  A.  Ward  .  .  .  148 

“  Alexander  Hamilton.”  By  John  Trumbull  .  .  156 

Peter  Cooper.  By  Augustus  Saint-Gaudens  .  .  168 

Manhattan  Bridge.  Bowery  Terminal  .  .  .  176 

“  Commerce.”  Detail  of  Manhattan  Bridge  .  .  176 

Washington  Arch . 184 

“  The  Delicate  Spire  of  St.  John’s.”  By  Jessie 
Banks  . . 194 

“  St.  John’s  from  York  Street.”  By  Anne  Gold- 

thwaite . 194 


ILLUSTRATIONS  xv 

PAGE 

“  Washington  the  Soldier.”  Detail  of  Washington 
Arch  . . 202 

“  Washington  as  President.”  Detail  of  Washington 
Arch . 210 

“  The  Ascension.”  By  John  La  Farge.  Church  of 
the  Ascension . 218 

Henry  Whitney  Bellows.  By  Augustus  Saint- 
Gaudens.  All  Souls’  Church  ....  232 

Equestrian  Statue  of  Washington.  By  Henry  Kirke 
Browne . 240 

The  Farragut  Statue.  By  Augustus  Saint-Gaudens  248 

Interior.  Madison  Square  Presbyterian  Church  .  254 

“  Wisdom.”  By  Henry  Oliver  Walker.  Appellate 
Court  House . 260 

“  January.”  By  Edward  Simmons.  Waldorf- 
Astoria  . 268 

“  Cattle  Fair:  Bowling  Green.”  By  Albert  Herter. 

Hotel  McAlpin . 272 

“  The  Jewels.”  By  Gilbert  White.  Hotel  McAlpin  272 

Frieze.  By  Andrew  O’Connor.  St.  Bartholomew’s 
Church . 276 

“Welcome.”  By  John  La  Farge.  Window  in  resi¬ 
dence  of  Mrs.  George  T.  Bliss  ....  282 

Edwin  Booth  Memorial  Window.  By  John  La  Farge. 
Church  of  the  Transfiguration  ....  282 

“  Romance.”  By  Paul  Wayland  Bartlett.  New 
York  Public  Library . 288 

New  York  Public  Library.  Erecting  the  Statues  .  288 

William  Cullen  Bryant.  By  Herbert  Adams  .  .  294 

The  Hunt  Memorial.  By  Daniel  Chester  French  .  298 


xvi  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

University  Club  Library.  Decoration  by  H.  Siddons 
Mowbray . 304 

Equestrian  Statue  of  William  Tecumseh  Sherman. 

By  Augustus  Saint-Gaudens  ....  310 

Plan  of  the  Plaza  .......  310 

Interior.  Metropolitan  Museum  ....  324 

Head  of  Balzac.  By  Rodin . 324 

Portrait  of  Henry  G.  Marquand.  By  John  S. 
Sargent . 332 

Details  of  Frieze.  By  Isidore  Konti.  Gainsborough 
Building . 346 

The  Maine  Monument . 350 

“  The  Pacific.”  Detail  of  Maine  Monument  .  .  350 

Equestrian  Statue  of  Jeanne  d’Arc.  By  Anna 
Vaughan  Hyatt . 358 

Firemen’s  Monument.  By  H.  Van  Buren  Magonigle  364 
“  Duty.”  Detail  of  Firemen’s  Monument  .  .  364 

Gate  to  Belmont  Chapel.  Cathedral  of  St.  John  the 
Divine  .........  370 

Recumbent  Figure  of  Bishop  Henry  Codman  Potter  376 
Relief.  By  Karl  Bitter.  Carl  Schurz  Monument  .  376 

Seth  Low  Memorial  Library . 380 

“  Alma  Mater.”  Columbia  University  Library  .  380 

Fountain  of  the  God  Pan.  By  George  Gray  Barnard  384 
Detail  of  the  Fountain  of  the  God  Pan  .  .  .  384 

“  The  Old  Tulip  Tree.  Inwood.”  Bv  Ernest  Lawson  392 
“  The  Duchess  of  Alba.”  By  Goya  .  .  .  402 

“  Washington  at  Valley  Forge.”  Bv  Henry  Merwin 
Shrady . 408 


ILLUSTRATIONS  xvii 

PAGE 

Portrait  Statue  of  James  S.  T.  Stranahan.  By 
Frederick  MacMonnies . 414 

“  The  Horse  Tamer.”  By  Frederick  MacMonnies  .  422 

“  James  McNeil  Whistler.”  By  Giovanni  Boldini  .  430 

Detail  of  “  Earth  ”  Panel.  By  Paul  Manship. 
Western  Union  Building . 438 

“  The  Music  of  Antiquity.”  By  Edward  H.  Blash- 
field.  In  residence  of  Mr.  Adolph  Lewisohn  .  444 

Detail  of  Ceiling.  By  H.  Siddons  Mowbray.  Mor¬ 
gan  Library . 448 

Drawing  for  Panel  on  Morgan  Library  .  .  .  448 

“  Proving  it  by  the  Book.”  By  Maxfield  Parrish  .  452 


A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


A  LOITERER  IN 
NEW  YORK 

i 

THE  PICTURE 

New  York  has  supreme  advantage  over  most 
cities  of  the  world  in  the  impressiveness  of  its 
approach.  There  is  something  to  be  said  for  all 
the  means  of  ingress,  something  prognostic  of  its 
inordinate  modernity,  of  its  immense  mechanical 
superiority,  of  its  intolerance  of  everything  that  is 
not  of  the  newest  and  the  latest  and  the  best, 
according  to  the  American  standard;  but  for  the 
stranger,  who  has  never  seen  the  city,  particularly 
one  whose  quest  is  character  and  individuality 
rather  than  convenience  or  speed — and  we  are 
speaking  to  loiterers — it  is  worth  the  expenditure 
of  time  and  trouble  to  make  what  detour  may  be 
necessary  in  order  to  arrive  by  water. 

The  whole  sweep  through  the  rough  salt  waters 
of  the  Lower  Bay;  the  passage  through  the  Nar¬ 
rows  into  the  Upper  Bay,  all  windy,  fresh,  exhil- 

15 


16  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


arating,  lead  dramatically  up  to  the  supreme  in¬ 
delible  impression  of  a  city  rising  from  the  sea, 
as  has  so  often  been  said. 

The  vision  thus  comes  with  surprise  and  splen¬ 
dour.  Mirage-like  in  the  offing,  its  white  towers 
detach  themselves  only  partially  from  the  back¬ 
ground  of  bright  skies,  each  detail  coming  grad¬ 
ually  out  until  the  essence  of  the  thing  which  is 
New  York  is  there  before  you  with  its  largest 
suggestion.  Through  that  vivid  clearness  of 
atmosphere  the  impending  city  looms — a  bristling 
promontory  pointing  its  tall,  sharp  end,  incon¬ 
ceivably  planted  with  incredible  masses  of  pro¬ 
digious  feats  of  stone-faced  ironmongery,  into  the 
very  eye  of  the  spectator. 

To  the  excitement  of  the  moment  of  realization 
every  great  and  small  thing  contributes.  There 
is  no  laziness  in  a  prospect  where  the  chief  end 
of  life  seems  to  be  transportation,  expressed  in 
the  restless,  feverish  desire  of  even’  craft  afloat 
to  get  quickly  somewhere  else;  this  sensation  of 
hurry  and  flurry  augmented  by  the  wind  and  the 
tide,  animated  by  the  same  desire  for  displacement 
and  unrest.  All  this  is  carried  on  with  the  fine 
unconsciousness  that  bespeaks  the  metropolis.  The 
tugs,  the  ferries,  the  minor  craft,  the  ships,  bent 
on  their  separate  ways,  independent  of  mien  and 


THE  PICTURE 


17 


action  yet  taking  one  another  into  account,  accept¬ 
ing  jostlings  and  delays  amiably  with  a  philosophy 
born  of  lifelong  dealings  with  crowds. 

The  city,  deposited  at  the  water’s  edge,  comes 
with  sudden  revelation,  yielding  at  first  glance  its 
salient  features.  Individual  buildings  rise  to  fan¬ 
tastic  heights  above  the  compact  pile,  giving  light¬ 
ness  and  variety  to  the  aerial  line.  The  smoke 
which  curls  about  their  towers  mingles  with  the 
clouds.  Everything  is  in  excess.  League  long 
bridges  fling  themselves  in  abandonment  across 
turbulent  tidal  rivers — great  arms  that  span  vast 
spaces  with  hands  that  grasp,  and  hold  to  the 
parent  island,  those  newly  acquired  boroughs  now 
proud  to  count  themselves  technically  part  of  the 
great  city. 

Like  some  gigantic  puss-wants-a-corner  game 
worked  out  beyond  all  hope  of  joy  for  the  per¬ 
former,  these  bridges  contribute  to  that  same 
insensate  desire  for  change  that  animates  the  river 
crafty  their  immeasurable  lengths  traversed  by 
ceaseless  belts  of  concatenated  cars  condemned  to 
a  sort  of  treadmill  destiny  staggering  in  its  mag¬ 
nitude. 

In  all  weathers,  in  all  seasons,  at  all  times  of 
day  or  night,  the  island,  from  whatever  point  of 
observation,  is  a  thing  of  wonder  and  delight.  In 


18  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


the  early  morning  it  shines  and  glistens  in  the 
dazzling  sun;  its  walls  giving  back  white  efful¬ 
gence,  in  marvellous  contrast  to  the  blueness  of 
an  habitually  cloudless  sky,  and  the  deeper  note 
of  constantly  agitated  waters. 

In  the  late  afternoon  the  thousand  windows 
reflect  the  fire  of  the  setting  sun,  its  colourful  after¬ 
glow,  and  the  island  seems  ablaze;  while  at  dusk 
the  whole  becomes  enveloped  in  a  soft,  Whis¬ 
tlerian  haze,  through  which  the  lights  in  the  office 
towers  sparkle  like  stars.  The  rushing,  crowded 
ferries  and  busy  steam  tugs,  that  all  day  have 
stirred  the  restless  waters,  begin  a  more  rhythmic 
action,  and  make  black  accents  in  the  sapphire 
blue  of  the  rivers,  disappearing  into  shadowy 
docks,  disgorging  their  heavy  loads,  floating  out 
again — vast  platforms  of  shifting  humanity. 

Gradually  mellowing,  the  scene  at  night  is  most 
significant  of  all.  Then  the  towering  mass  of  the 
island  deepens  to  a  rich  silhouette  against  the  sky, 
luminous  with  the  city  glow.  The  lower  end  is 
deserted,  and  looms  mysterious  and  awful  in  its 
empty  vastness.  To  one  who  goes  in  for  rich 
effects,  there  can  be  nothing  more  impressive  of 
the  value  of  New  York,  as  a  unique  city,  than  a 
study  of  the  various  and  bizarre  pictures  it  makes 
from  such  vantage  points  as  the  Brooklyn  Heights, 


“UNDER  THE  BROOKLYN  BRIDGE” 

AFTER  A  PAINTING  BY  ERNEST  LAWSON 


THROUGH  THAT  VIVID  CLEARNESS  OF  ATMOSPHERE 
THE  IMPENDING  CITY  LOOMS — ”  (PAGE  l6 ) 


THE  PICTURE 


19 


the  ferries,  or  from  any  of  the  several  bridges. 
There,  comfortably  ensconced,  one  may  ponder  at 
one’s  leisure  upon  its  most  curious  unsubstantial 
quality,  as  of  some  gigantic  Luna  Park,  its  out¬ 
lines  traced  by  prodigal  dots  of  light,  its  features 
illumined  in  so  strange  a  fashion  as  to  make  them 
appear  translucent;  the  whole  high  strung  to  the 
strident  note  of  perpetual  fete. 

This  sense  of  improbability  deepens  on  closer 
acquaintance,  when  the  fantastic  notion  that  the 
whole  amazing  structure  that  shifts  and  changes 
before  one’s  approaching  gaze  is  more  or  less 
stage  land,  gotten  up  for  effect,  is  substantiated 
by  the  recorded  facts;  by  the  comparison  of  the 
series  of  prints  of  old  New  York,  that  show  this 
very  tip  of  the  island  to  have  undergone,  in  the 
short  space  of  three  hundred  years,  metamorpho¬ 
ses  that  leave  not  one  stone  standing  of  the  original 
assemblage. 

Rains  and  fogs  but  add  effect  and  interest  to 
the  picture;  summer  suns  and  winter  snows,  char¬ 
acter.  But  these  are  accidents:  New  York  the 
typical  is  clear,  bright,  sunny,  breezy,  invigorat¬ 
ing.  It  seems,  as  it  rears  its  giddy  height  there  at 
the  head  of  the  bay,  the  young,  vital  city  that  it 
is — the  metropolis  of  a  new  world. 

New  York  has  one  of  the  finest  of  natural  har- 


20  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


hours.  It  has  an  entrance  of  about  a  mile  in 
width  between  Fort  Hamilton,  at  the  southwest 
angle  of  the  borough  of  Brooklyn,  and  Fort 
Wadsworth,  the  point  opposite  on  Staten  Island. 
This  entrance,  known  as  the  Narrows,  leads  into 
a  fine  bay  about  five  miles  wide  and  six  miles  long, 
within  which  lie  several  small  islands  of  indifferent 
interest  and  little  physical  grace. 

Bartholdi’s  impressive  statue,  “  Liberty  En¬ 
lightening  the  World,’’  stands  on  Bedloe’s  Island, 
in  the  bay,  of  which  it  is  a  distinguishing  feature. 
It  stands  for  fine  sentiment,  as  well  as  aesthetic 
achievement;  for  it  was  presented  to  the  people 
of  the  United  States  by  the  people  of  France,  in 
commemoration  of  the  one  hundredth  anniversary 
of  American  Independence.  The  sculptor,  Fred¬ 
eric  Bartholdi,  was  a  Frenchman,  of  whose  work 
we  have  another  worthy  example  in  the  city — the 
Lafayette  in  Union  Square,  presented  by  the 
French  residents  of  New  York,  in  gratitude  for 
American  sympathy  in  the  Franco-Prussian  War. 
His  reputation  rests  upon  that  noble  monument, 
the  “  Lion  de  Belfort,”  of  which  a  reduced  replica 
dominates  the  Place  Denfert-Rochereau  in  Paris. 

Unlike  many  of  the  foreign  works  which  have 
been  shipped  to  us,  and  erected  without  the  artist 
having  ever  seen  the  country,  let  alone  the  site, 


THE  PICTURE 


21 


this  one  was  devised  after  Bartholdi  had  made  the 
trip  to  the  United  States,  to  view  the  bay  in  which 
his  projected  statue  was  to  stand,  and  picked  out 
Bedloe’s  Island  as  the  spot  best  adapted  for  it. 
He  wished  to  make  something  to  impress  the  im¬ 
migrant  to  these  shores,  and  conceived  this  majestic 
symbol  of  Liberty  holding  the  flaming  torch,  that 
should  typify  for  him  the  freedom  and  opportunity 
of  a  new  world.  As  early  as  1865  he  had  this 
ambition, — to  make  a  statue  commemorative  of 
the  friendship  between  the  two  countries. 

Unfortunately,  at  the  time  that  the  statue  was 
erected,  1885,  great  stress  was  laid  upon  the  colos¬ 
sal  proportions  of  the  figure.  People  were  im¬ 
mensely  impressed  by  its  size,  having  been  duly 
instructed  upon  that  inconsequent  point,  by  a 
zealous  press,  and  loved  to  marvel  upon  the  fact 
that  forty  persons  could  stand  in  its  head — if  they 
wanted  to  do  so.  Everything  being  relative,  the 
attention  of  a  fickle  public  has  been  many  times 
shifted,  with  this  regard,  since  the  Liberty  statue 
used  to  epater  les  bourgeois  on  the  grounds  of  its 
height,  many  times  eclipsed  by  the  towering  sky¬ 
scrapers  invented  since. 

Bartholdi’s  statue  remains,  none  the  less,  an 
imposing  feature  of  the  Upper  Bay.  The  attitude 
of  the  figure  is  dignified;  its  mass,  sculpturesque; 


22  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


and  it  has  gained  immeasurably,  since  its  erection, 
by  the  lovely  patine  which  time  and  exposure  have 
added  to  the  metal.  It  is  very  interesting  also 
mechanically,  being  made  of  a  shell  of  repousse 
copper,  riveted  together  and  supported  by  an 
interior  skeleton  of  iron,  designed  by  the  French 
engineer,  Eiffel,  who  built  the  famous  tower.  Pro¬ 
vision  is  made  for  expansion  and  contraction, 
caused  by  variations  of  temperature,  and  an  asbes¬ 
tos  packing  is  employed  to  insulate  the  copper 
from  the  iron  and  prevent  the  corrosion  which 
would  otherwise  be  caused  by  the  action  of  elec¬ 
tricity,  induced  by  the  salt  air. 

Governor’s  Island,  near  the  Battery,  is  occupied 
by  the  United  States  government  for  military  pur¬ 
poses.  It  figures  in  the  early  history  of  New 
York,  having  been  purchased  from  the  Indians, 
in  1637,  by  Wouter  Van  T wilier,  one  of  the  Dutch 
governors,  and  one  of  the  richest  landowners  in 
the  province.  The  Indians  called  the  island  Pag- 
ganck;  and  under  the  Dutch  dominion  it  was 
known  as  Nooten,  or  Nut,  Island;  while  under 
English  rule  it  was  set  aside  by  the  assembly  for 
the  benefit  of  the  royal  governors  from  which  it 
takes  its  name.  After  various  changes,  it  was 
ceded  to  the  federal  government,  by  the  State  of 
New  York,  in  1800. 


THE  PICTURE 


23 


Governor’s  Island  was  once  a  part  of  Long 
Island,  so  that  cattle  were  driven  across  the  But¬ 
termilk  Channel — so  narrow  and  shallow,  in  Van 
Twiller’s  time,  that  it  was  easily  forded.  Boats 
drawing  very  little  water  were  the  only  craft  able 
to  get  through  the  channel,  and  numbers  of  these 
took  buttermilk  from  Long  Island  to  the  markets 
of  New  York,  embarking  at  Red  Hook  Point. 

The  Military  Museum,  on  Governor’s  Island, 
contains  many  relics  of  former  wars;  and  Fort 
Jay,  formerly  Fort  Columbus,  has  a  well-pre¬ 
served  moat,  drawbridge,  parapet,  and  guns.  The 
barracks  here  are  still  in  use.  Castle  William, 
from  which  the  sunset  gun  is  fired,  is  used  as  a 
military  prison. 

Ellis  Island,  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  Battery, 
was  famous,  in  Dutch  days,  as  Oyster  Island, 
owing  to  the  quantities  of  oysters  consumed  there. 
It  was  sold  by  the  state  to  the  national  govern¬ 
ment,  in  1808,  and  has  been  the  immigrant  station 
since  1891,  when  the  old  Castle  Garden  was  dis¬ 
qualified  for  that  portentous  use. 

On  Swinburne  and  Hoffman  Islands,  made  by 
filling  in,  in  the  Lower  Bay,  are  the  quarantine 
stations,  which  were  located  at  Seguine’s  Point, 
Staten  Island,  in  1859,  and  occasioned  the  upris¬ 
ing  of  the  people  in  vigorous  protest.  The  build- 


24  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


ings  were  burned,  together  with  those  at  Tomp- 
kinsville,  and  the  country  was  forced  to  pay  the 
state  over  an  hundred  thousand  dollars  indemnity. 

The  approach  to  New  York  by  water,  supple¬ 
mented  by  a  trip  around  the  Island  of  Manhattan, 
in  one  of  the  sightseeing  yachts,  will  fix  once  and 
for  all  the  puzzling  topography  of  the  original 
city  in  its  relation  to  its  four  tributaries;  the  whole 
constituting  what  is  known  as  Greater  New  York. 
A  flight  in  an  aeroplane  over  the  city  would  be 
even  more  helpful,  and  will  no  doubt  one  day  be 
thoroughly  practical.  For  the  present  an  excellent 
idea  of  the  lay  of  the  land  may  be  got  by  mount¬ 
ing  into  the  towers  of  one  or  another  of  the  higher 
buildings,  from  which  the  whole  country  lies  flat 
below  one,  as  a  map. 

Before  1874  the  city  did  not  extend  beyond 
Manhattan  Island.  Parts  of  Westchester  County 
were  in  that  year  first  incorporated,  and  in  1895 
more  territory,  in  the  same  county,  was  annexed. 
The  city  of  Greater  New  York,  incorporated  in 
1898,  now  embraces  an  area  of  two  hundred  and 
eighty-five  square  miles,  and  includes  five  bor¬ 
oughs,  of  which  the  original  island  is  very  much 
the  smallest,  containing  but  twenty-two  square 
miles,  or  considerably  less  than  one-tenth  of  the 
combined  area.  Of  the  others,  Queens  has  an 


“BROOKLYN  BRIDGE” 

AFTER  A  PAINTING  BY  EDWARD  W.  REDFIELD 


LEAGUE-LONG  BRIDGES  FLING  THEMSELVES  IN  ABANDONMENT  ACROSS 
TURBULENT  TIDAL  RIVERS — ”  (PAGE  1 7) 


THE  PICTURE 


25 


area  of  one  hundred  and  three  square  miles ;  Brook¬ 
lyn,  seventy-two ;  Richmond,  fifty,  and  Bronx, 
forty-two. 

Passing  through  the  Narrows  into  New  York 
harbour,  the  borough  of  Brooklyn,  occupying  the 
southern  end  of  Long  Island,  lies  on  the  right; 
Richmond,  or  Staten  Island,  to  use  the  old  Dutch 
derived  name,  on  the  left.  The  other  extensions 
of  the  city  proper  lie  to  the  east  and  north  of  the 
island,  across  the  East  and  Harlem  Rivers  and 
Spuyten  Duyvil  Creek.  Queens  lies  adjacent  to 
Brooklyn,  on  Long  Island;  while  the  Bronx  is 
the  most  northern  adjunct  to  the  city,  the  only 
section  to  form  part  of  the  mainland  of  New 
York  State. 

Jersey  City,  Hoboken,  Paterson,  Weehawken, 
and  other  small  Jersey  towns  and  cities,  would 
have  been  comprised  in  the  consolidation  of  1898, 
except  that  they  are  in  a  different  state.  As  it 
is  they  are,  in  effect,  suburban  in  their  relation  to 
the  city,  and  their  ferries  and  underground  tubes 
bring  daily  a  vast  contribution  to  the  sum  total 
of  workers,  shoppers,  and  pleasure-seekers  on 
Manhattan  Island. 

The  boundary  between  New  York  and  New 
Jersey  was  an  early  point  of  dispute;  the  main 
controversy  being  whether  Staten  Island  was  in- 


26  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


eluded  in  the  grant  of  New  Jersey  to  Carteret 
and  Berkeley,  by  the  Duke  of  York.  The  point 
was  determined  in  a  sportsmanlike  manner,  when 
the  duke,  afterwards  James  II,  announced  that 
all  islands  in  the  bay  that  could  be  circumnavi¬ 
gated  in  a  day  should  belong  to  the  province  of 
New  York;  and  Staten  Island  was  won  through 
the  enterprise  of  Captain  Christopher  Billop,  who 
sailed  around  it  in  less  than  twenty-four  hours,  in 
his  famous  ship,  the  Bentley. 

Billop’s  delightful  old  house,  built  on  the  large 
tract  of  land  on  the  southern  part  of  the  island, 
presented  to  him  in  recognition  of  his  feat,  still 
stands,  in  a  state  of  lamentable  decajT,  a  monu¬ 
ment  to  his  memory,  and  to  civic  indifference  to 
old  landmarks. 


II 


MAN  AH  ACHT  ANIENK 

Antiquarianism,  pursued  for  its  own  sake,  has 
smashed  some  of  our  most  hallowed  traditions. 
Yet,  so  sweet  are  the  ways  of  error,  it  moves  us 
very  little  from  our  romantic  conception  of  Hud¬ 
son’s  thrilling  voyage  in  de  Halve  Moen,  and  his 
incidental  discovery  of  this  region  and  the  river 
named  for  him,  to  know,  from  soulless  savants, 
that  his  was  not  the  first  white  man’s  ship  seen  by 
the  Redskins  inhabiting  these  shores. 

Irving,  indeed,  in  his  heartily  sympathetic  man¬ 
ner,  disposes  cavalierly  of  the  whole  question  of 
the  Italian  claim  for  the  priority  of  their  explorer, 
Giovanni  Verrazzano,  in  a  rich  footnote  to  his 
jocose  History  of  New  York,  not  only  on  the 
ground  of  his  inadequate  description,  but  for  the 
more  soul-satisfying  reason  that  this  Verrazzano 
— for  whom  he  confesses  a  most  bitter  enmity — is 
a  native  of  that  same  Florence  that  “  filched  away 
the  laurels  from  the  brow  of  the  immortal  Colon 
(vulgarly  called  Columbus),  and  bestowed  them 

27 


28  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


upon  its  officious  townsman,  Amerigo  Vespucci.” 

The  incident  described  in  what  Irving  scurri- 
lously  calls  “  a  certain  apocryphal  book  of  voy¬ 
ages  by  one  Hakluyt,”  relates  that,  eighty-five 
years  before  Hudson,  the  Italian  explorer,  sailing 
for  the  king  of  France,  coasted  along  the  eastern 
shore  of  North  America  from  North  Carolina  to 
Newfoundland;  and,  on  the  way,  “found  a  very 
agreeable  situation — the  bay  ( ?) — located  between 
two  small  prominent  hills, — the  Narrows  (?) — in 
the  midst  of  which  flowed  to  the  sea  a  very  great 
river, — the  Hudson  (?) — which  was  deep  within 
its  mouth.”  His  ship,  the  Dauphin,  a  caravel  of 
one  hundred  tons,  “  anchored  off  the  coast  in  good 
shelter.” 

That  the  Florentine  navigator  was  a  gallant 
captain  and  a  handsome  man,  in  the  eyes  of  his 
compatriots,  is  evident  from  the  portrait  bust,  sur¬ 
mounting  the  monument  to  his  memory,  the  work 
of  Ettore  Ximenes,  the  Roman  sculptor,  erected 
by  his  fellow  countrymen,  in  Battery  Park,  whence 
he  gazes  proudly  out  upon  the  bay  which  he  is 
said  to  have  first  discovered.  The  letter,  generally 
believed  to  be  authentic,  in  which  he  made  his 
report  to  Francois  I,  contains  the  earliest  recorded 
description  of  any  part  of  the  seacoast  eventually 
included  in  the  original  colonies. 


MANAHACHTANIENK 


29 


During  the  same  century,  statisticians  would 
have  us  believe,  the  bay  served  as  a  harbour  for 
mariners  of  many  nationalities — Spanish,  French, 
Portuguese,  and  Dutch — and  it  is  to  be  supposed 
that  the  European  fishing  craft,  that  abounded 
further  north,  put  into  this  excellent  natural 
shelter,  from  time  to  time,  as  exigency  demanded. 

Cosmopolitan  in  its  primitive  history,  cosmopoli¬ 
tan  it  remains,  though  these  casual  discoveries 
produced  no  results;  and  it  was  not  until  early  in 
the  seventeenth  century,  when  Henry  Hudson,  an 
English  explorer,  in  the  service  of  the  East  India 
Trading  Company,  of  Holland,  set  foot  upon 
these  shores,  that  the  real  history  of  our  island 
begins. 

The  Half  Moon ,  a  flat-bottomed,  two-masted 
Dutch  vessel,  of  eighty  tons’  burden,  designed  to 
meet  the  peculiar  features  of  navigation  about  the 
Zuyder  Zee,  and  named  in  honor  of  the  island  of 
Vlieland,  a  vlieboot ,  was  one  of  many  ships  owned 
by  the  East  India  Company,  a  great  trading  cor¬ 
poration,  organized  at  Amsterdam,  in  1602. 

Hudson  was  an  experienced  explorer,  having 
twice  been  sent  by  merchants  of  his  own  country, 
in  search  of  that  mythical  short  cut  to  the  Orient, 
upon  which  traders  and  mariners,  of  this  epoch, 
built  their  fondest  hopes. 


30  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


The  Dutch  owned  islands,  rich  in  spices,  in  the 
Indian  Ocean;  their  only  means  of  access  thereto 
was  the  long,  dangerous  voyage  around  the  conti¬ 
nent  of  Africa,  by  way  of  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope. 
The  extent  and  breadth  of  the  Western  Hemi¬ 
sphere  was  unsuspected  in  those  days,  and  every 
bay  or  strait  or  important  stream  on  the  Atlantic 
Coast  of  North  America  seemed,  potentially,  the 
entrance  to  broader  waterways  to  seas,  beyond  the 
far  west,  to  the  farther  east. 

The  Narrows  seemed  to  an  expectant  mariner 
ideally  to  promise,  and  when  the  Half  Moon 
sailed  up  the  open  gates  of  the  majestic  river  on 
the  left  of  the  great  bay,  Hudson  thought  he  had 
found  the  passage  to  the  Indies,  and  pushed  on 
as  far  as  Albany,  where  the  shallow  waters  dis¬ 
couraged  him,  and  he  gave  it  up. 

The  commercial  importance  of  his  discovery  was 
perfectly  clear  to  so  keen  a  man  as  Henry  Hud¬ 
son;  the  failure  of  his  particular  quest  he  had, 
himself,  anticipated,  in  his  advice  to  the  company 
before  starting  out,  that  he  should  be  permitted 
to  investigate  the  possibilities  of  a  passage  west 
of  Greenland,  through  Davis  Strait. 

He  returned  to  Holland  with  his  story  of  the 
shores  of  his  Great  River,  which  he  called  the 
River  of  the  Mountains.  He  told  of  bartering 


"NIGHT  :  NEW  YORK  FROM  BROOKLYN  HEIGHTS” 

AFTER  A  PAINTING  BY  EDWARD  W.  REDFIELD 

“THEN  THE  TOWERING  MASS  OF  THE  ISLAND  DEEPENS  TO  A  RICH  SILHOUETTE 
AGAINST  THE  SKY,  LUMINOUS  WITH  THE  CITY  GLOW”  (PAGE  l8) 


MANAHACHTANIENK 


31 


with  the  Indians ;  of  the  fur-bearing  animals, 
samples  of  whose  pelts  he  brought  as  evidence 
of  their  richness;  he  described  the  high  hills  which 
he  thought  might  contain  mines  of  valuable  metal ; 
and  upon  his  intelligent  report  was  based  the 
whole  future  development  of  the  company’s  im¬ 
mense  transactions  with  this  region. 

Hudson,  personally,  profited  nothing  of  his 
discoveries.  He  fell  out  with  the  Hollanders  and 
returned  to  England,  making  another  voyage,  for 
an  English  company,  for  the  same  purpose,  and 
discovered  the  great  north  bay,  which,  like  the 
river,  was  later  named  for  him,  and  there  mys¬ 
teriously  perished.  The  story  of  his  fate  has 
worked  into  the  legend  of  the  Hudson  Valley  and 
its  mountainous  environment.  His  crew  mutinied, 
and  their  leader,  his  son,  and  seven  faithful  sailors 
were  put  into  a  small  boat,  and  set  adrift  in  the 
great  bay  and  seen  no  more.  Hendrick  Hudson 
men  still  figure  in  the  folk-lore  of  this  romantic 
country. 

The  Dutch  were  just  as  human  as  the  people 
of  other  nationalities  with  regard  to  their  treat¬ 
ment  of  heroes  and  heroines.  After  he  was,  pre¬ 
sumably,  dead  and  gone,  they  not  only  named  the 
river  and  bay  that  he  had  discovered  after  Hudson, 
they  claimed  him  bodily  and  ancestrally  for  their 


32  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


own,  pretending  that  he  was  a  Dutchman,  and 
changing  his  name  to  Hendrick  in  their  annals 
and  descriptions. 

They  followed  up  his  discoveries  with  the  most 
businesslike  acumen,  and  traders  were  sent  out 
immediately  upon  the  explorer’s  return  to  Hol¬ 
land,  in  1609. 

The  Island  of  Manhattan,  to  which  the  growth 
of  the  official  city  confined  itself  during  the  first 
three  hundred  years  that  succeeded  its  discovery, 
and  which  will  always  mean  New  York,  at  least 
to  the  present  generation,  no  matter  how  all-em¬ 
bracing  it  may  become  in  its  need  of  territory,  was 
so  named  by  the  Indians  who  inhabited  its  shores. 
At  least  the  word,  Manhattan,  is  a  derivative  from 
the  original  dialect  of  the  native  tribes. 

The  Delawares  and  Mohicans  called  the  island 
where  they  received  the  Dutch  visitors  Manahach- 
tanienk,  which,  in  the  Delaware  language,  we  are 
assured  by  Bishop  Heekewelder,  the  Moravian 
missionary  to  the  Indians,  means  “  the  place  where 
we  all  became  intoxicated.” 

Historians  have  pooh-poohed  this  quaintly 
prophetic  significance  of  a  word,  indeed,  variously 
interpreted,  but  have  failed  to  impair  its  peren¬ 
nial  aptness.  The  name  might  have  been  selected 
by  many  generations  of  botis  viveurs,  who  have 


MANAHACHTANIENK 


33 


made  merry  in  this  fashion  on  the  island,  includ¬ 
ing,  notably,  the  present. 

“  We  have  corrupted  this  name  into  ‘  Manhat¬ 
tan,’  ”  says  the  missionary,  “  but  not  so  as  to 
destroy  its  meaning  or  conceal  its  origin.”  “  There 
are  few  Indian  traditions,”  he  goes  on  to  tell  us, 
“  so  well  supported  as  this.” 

Hudson,  on  his  return  to  Holland,  was  detained 
at  an  English  port,  and  sent  his  charts  and  his 
journal  to  the  East  India  Company  by  his  mate, 
a  Netherlander.  Though  they  have  disappeared, 
and  such  parts  as  were  quoted  in  a  contemporary 
publication  make  no  special  mention  of  his  land¬ 
ing  in  the  harbour  of  New  York,  we  possess  a  very 
striking  tradition  of  the  event  as  preserved  by  the 
hospitable  tribe  who  received  him. 

The  story  of  the  arrival  of  the  Half  Moon  was 
taken  down  by  Heckewelder,  from  the  mouth  of 
an  intelligent  Delaware  Indian,  and  given,  with 
much  picturesque  data,  in  all  simplicity,  in  his 
“  History  of  the  Indian  Nations,”  published  by  the 
American  Philosophical  Society,  in  1818. 

The  Indians  described  themselves  as  greatly 
perplexed  and  terrified  when  they  beheld  a  strange 
object,  of  great  size,  in  the  offing.  During  the 
hours  that  it  took  a  sailing  vessel  to  approach, 
they  were  thrown  into  a  panic  of  fear  and  appre- 


34  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


hension,  not  knowing  what  visitation  to  expect 
out  of  the  horizon,  that  encompassed  their  knowl¬ 
edge  of  space.  Their  fears  were  only  augmented, 
when  it  was  reported  to  them  by  the  runners  sta¬ 
tioned  along  the  shore,  that  the  object  appeared 
to  be  a  huge  house  or  canoe,  and  could  only  con¬ 
jecture  that  they  were  about  to  receive  a  visit  from 
Mannitto — the  Great  or  Supreme  Being. 

Anxious  to  propitiate  him,  lest  his  object  should 
be  to  punish  them  for  their  misdeeds,  the  chiefs 
instructed  the  women  to  prepare  a  feast  in  his 
honour,  and,  in  their  distracted  way,  ordered  a 
great,  spectacular  dance  to  be  given,  hoping  to 
please  him  and  to  show  their  respectful  intentions. 
Chiefs  from  all  the  neighbouring  territory  were 
warned  of  the  impending  danger  and  congregated 
together  with  their  tribes,  in  great  agitation  and 
bewilderment,  not  knowing  how  to  meet  so  august 
a  visitor,  nor  what  his  intentions  with  regard  to 
themselves  might  be. 

Meanwhile  fresh  runners,  from  the  lookout 
places,  came  with  the  news  that  the  large  house 
approaching  was  of  various  colours,  and  crowded 
with  living  creatures.  The  Indians  then  thought 
that  Mannitto  must  be  bringing  them  some  new 
kind  of  game  and  rejoiced  exceedingly  at  this 
mark  of  favour.  Soon,  however,  it  was  spread 


MANAHACHTANIENK 


35 


abroad  that  the  living  creatures  were  men,  like 
themselves,  only  with  white  skins,  and  that  among 
them  was  a  gorgeous  godlike  man  in  a  red  coat 
all  glittering  with  gold  lace,  who  seemed  to  be 
then  chief. 

The  Indians  could  no  longer  doubt  that  this  was 
indeed  their  Mannitto,  come  in  person,  with  his 
retinue,  and  their  excitement  and  agitation  knew 
no  bounds.  Soon  the  big  house,  some  said  canoe, 
came  near  to  the  shore,  and  the  Indians,  unable 
to  restrain  themselves,  pushed  out  in  their  small 
craft,  or  ran  along  the  bank,  answering  the  shouts 
of  the  sailors  with  their  strange  cries,  and  assisting 
them  to  land  with  every  sign  of  hospitality  and 
welcome. 

Never  doubting  that  they  were  in  the  presence 
of  the  Supreme  Being,  they  only  marveled  that 
their  Mannitto  should  not  be  a  red  man  like  them¬ 
selves,  but  should  have  fair  skin.  However,  the 
gorgeousness  of  his  apparel,  and  the  respect  with 
which  his  suite  treated  him,  left  no  room  for  ques¬ 
tion,  and  their  only  thought  was  to  propitiate 
the  visitor. 

With  this  end  in  view,  all  went  smoothly  until 
the  resplendent  one  sent  one  of  his  attendants 
back  to  the  ship  for  a  hackhack  (properly  a  gourd, 
but  applied  also  to  bottles  and  decanters)  and  a 


36  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


glass,  out  of  which  the  chief  poured  himself  some 
dark  liquid  and  drank  it  with  significant  gestures 
and  friendly  looks.  He  then  directed  another 
glassful  to  be  poured  out  and  this  he  passed  to 
the  nearest  Indian,  who  took  it,  smelled  of  it, 
bowed  low  and  passed  it  on  to  his  neighbour.  In 
this  fashion  the  glass  went  round  the  circle  of 
wondering  chiefs,  until  a  strong  brave  chief 
stepped  forward,  took  the  glass,  and  harangued 
the  others  at  length  upon  the  risk  of  exciting 
their  Mannitto’s  ire  by  the  refusal  to  drink  the 
potion  prepared  for  them.  “  I  will  drink  it,”  he 
said,  “  let  the  consequences  be  what  may;  for  it  is 
better  for  one  chief  to  die  than  for  a  whole  tribe 
to  be  destroyed.” 

So  saying  this  valiant  warrior  drained  the  cup 
to  the  dregs.  The  others  watched  breathless,  in 
anticipation  of  the  direst  results.  Nothing  hap¬ 
pened  for  a  moment,  when  the  giant  chieftain 
began  to  sway  backwards  and  forwards,  and 
finally  fell  to  the  ground,  apparently  dead.  When 
he  regained  consciousness,  he  staggered  to  his  feet, 
and  described  in  glowing  terms  the  effect  of  the 
potion,  how  happy  he  had  felt,  what  dreams  had 
visited  his  sleep,  and  urged  his  fellows  to  try  it. 
This  was  done:  more  liquor  was  brought  from  the 
boat  and  the  day  was  spent  in  wild  intoxication. 


MANAHACHTANIENK 


37 


“  As  the  Whites  became  daily  more  familiar 
with  the  Indians,”  Heckewelder  goes  on  to  tell 
us,  “  they  at  last  proposed  to  stay  with  them,  and 
asked  only  for  so  much  ground  for  a  garden  spot, 
they  said,  as  the  hide  of  a  bullock,  then  spread 
before  them,  would  cover,  or  encompass.  The 
Indians  readily  granted  this  apparently  reasonable 
request;  but  the  Whites  then  took  a  knife  and, 
beginning  at  one  end  of  the  hide,  cut  it  up  to  a 
long  rope,  not  thicker  than  a  child’s  finger,  so  that 
by  the  time  the  whole  was  cut  it  made  a  great 
heap;  they  then  took  the  rope  at  one  end  and 
drew  it  gently  along,  carefully  avoiding  its  break¬ 
ing.  It  was  drawn  out  into  a  circular  form,  and 
being  closed  at  the  ends,  encompassed  a  large 
piece  of  ground.” 

Ignorant  of  what  is  related  of  Queen  Dido,  in 
ancient  history,  and  that  the  Dutchmen  were 
simply  practising  classic  tricks  upon  them,  this 
cunning  equally  surprised  and  delighted  the  sim¬ 
ple  and  confiding  Indians,  who  allowed  the  suc¬ 
cess  of  the  artifice  good-humouredly  and  made  their 
visitors  cordially  welcome. 

So  much  for  the  initial  step  in  acquiring  foot¬ 
hold  on  the  Island  of  Manhattan. 


Ill 


DUTCH  DOMINION 

The  lofty  aims  that  inspired  the  founding  of 
Boston  and  Philadelphia  and  some  other  of  the 
oldest  cities  of  North  America  had  no  part  in  the 
settlement  of  New  York.  If  the  Indians  named  it 
in  honour  of  conviviality,  the  Dutch  claimed  it  for 
the  purposes  of  commercialism ;  and  if  the  attempt 
to  take  the  aesthetic  view  is  invariably  blighted,  as 
.Tames  has  said,  by  this  most  salient  characteristic 
— the  feature  that  has  persisted  through  the  few 
centuries  of  its  progress — one  must  not  blame  too 
harshly  a  city  that  was  wronged  from  the  start. 

It  was,  indeed,  with  no  idea  of  founding  a  city 
that  the  first  traders  were  sent  here  under  Hen¬ 
drick  Christiaensen,  in  1610.  to  follow  up  Hudson’s 
account  of  the  business  to  be  conducted  on  the 
island.  Between  this  year  and  1616,  when  he  was 
killed  by  an  Indian  at  Fort  Nassau,  Christiaensen 
was  the  most  active  skipper  concerned  in  the  many 
voyages  to  the  Hudson  River. 

During  this  time  no  permanent  landings  were 

38 


DUTCH  DOMINION 


39 


made;  the  Dutch  traders  lived  upon  their  boats 
in  the  harbour,  remained  only  long  enough  to 
secure  a  cargo  of  pelts,  and  speedily  returned  to 
Holland  to  reap  their  harvest  and  prepare  for 
fresh  voyages. 

The  first  homes  of  white  men  built  upon  the 
island  were  the  result  of  an  accident.  Christiaen- 
sen  had  entered  into  partnership  with  Adriaen 
Block,  the  commander  of  the  Tiger.  While  this 
ship  lay  at  anchor  in  the  bay,  in  the  direct  course 
that  the  Staten  Island  ferryboats  now  take,  it 
took  fire,  one  cold  November  night,  and  Block  and 
his  men  were  forced  to  swim  ashore,  and  to  build 
for  themselves  the  famous  four  huts  known  to  tra¬ 
dition  as  the  Block  houses.  A  tablet,  placed  on 
the  fa9ade  of  No.  41  Broadway,  marks  the  sup¬ 
posed  site  of  the  Block  houses,  the  first  habitation 
of  white  men  on  the  Island  of  Manhattan. 

Block  spent  the  winter  building  a  new  ship, 
which  he  called  the  Onrust,  or  Restless,  the  first 
ship  to  be  built  in  this  region,  and  the  second  made 
by  white  men  in  America.  She  rendered  much 
service  in  exploring  Long  Island  Sound,  and  is 
thought  to  have  been  the  first  vessel  to  pass 
through  the  waters  of  Hell  Gate. 

The  year  1614  is  memorable  in  the  history  of 
New  York,  for  then  the  United  New  Netherland 


40  A  LOITERER  IX  NEW  YORK 


Company  was  formed.  This  established  the  name 
of  the  province,  Xew  Xetherland,  and  opened  the 
duly  chartered  commerce  of  the  Hudson  River. 
About  this  time  Fort  Manhattan  was  built — a 
rough  stockade  intended  as  a  temporary  shelter 
for  the  factors  of  the  company  while  engaged  in 
stripping  the  island  of  furs,  which  it  was  expected 
could  be  accomplished  in  a  few  years.  The  life 
of  this  trading  organization  was  limited  by  its 
charter  to  three  years  and  four  voyages,  to  be 
completed  before  January  1,  1G18. 

Fort  Manhattan  was  simply  a  trading  post  of 
ephemeral  construction — a  redoubt.  According  to 
some  writers,  it  stood  “  just  south  of  Bowling 
Green,”  according  to  others  “  on  the  site  of  the 
McComb  mansion,”  at  what  is  now  39  Broadway. 
Others,  again,  declare  that  neither  it  nor  the  Block 
houses  had  existence  on  the  island,  at  least  at  this 
epoch  in  its  history.  Some  confusion  seems  to 
have  existed,  in  the  minds  of  early  historians,  be¬ 
tween  the  doings  of  the  United  New  Xetherland 
Company  and  the  West  India  Trading  Company, 
formed  by  the  rich  fur  traders  of  Holland,  about 
1621. 

The  West  Indies  then  included  every  country 
to  be  reached  by  sailing  west  from  Holland.  It  is 
probable  that  no  one  understood  much  of  the  vast- 


"INDIANS  OF  MANHATTAN,"  BY  BARRY  FAULKNER 

PANEL  IN  THE  WASHINGTON  IRVING  HIGH  SCHOOL  (PAGE  450) 


‘‘LANDING  OF  HENRY  HUDSON,"  BY  BARRY  FAULKNER 

PANEL  IN  THE  WASHINGTON  IRVING  HIGH  SCHOOL  (PAGE  450) 


DUTCH  DOMINION 


41 


ness  of  the  new  continent;  and  New  Netherlands 
was  vaguely  referred  to  as  including  the  territory 
along  the  Atlantic  Ocean  now  embraced  by  the 
states  of  New  York,  New  Jersey,  and  Connecticut, 
and  extended  inland  as  far  as  the  company  might 
care  to  send  colonists. 

The  Dutch  West  India  Company  received  from 
the  States-General  enormous  powers,  including  the 
exclusive  privilege  of  trading  in  the  province  of 
New  Netherland  for  twenty  years.  Merely  in 
order  to  protect  its  commercial  interests  from  pos¬ 
sible  Indian  raids,  or  the  encroachments  of  neigh¬ 
bouring  English  colonists,  was  an  attempt  at  per¬ 
manent  settlement  or  colonization  made.  Leaven¬ 
worth,  Denver — numerous  western  cities  were 
founded  in  the  same  way,  yet  none  has  so  fully, 
so  flamboyantly  achieved  its  destiny.  Founded 
for  trade,  by  trade.  New  York  owes  its  very 
existence  to  the  commercial  enterprise  of  the 
doughty  Hollanders. 

As  a  remarkable  instance  of  the  familiar  reflec¬ 
tion  that  “  you  can’t  beat  the  Dutch,”  it  is  freely 
quoted  on  all  sides,  that  Peter  Minuit,  the  first 
Dutch  Governor  of  the  Province  of  New  Nether¬ 
land,  bought  the  entire  Island  of  Manhattan  from 
the  unsuspecting  savages  for  sixty  guilders,  cur¬ 
rently  estimated  at  $24  of  our  national  currency. 


42  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Some  historians  take  consolation  in  the  modifying 
statement  that  the  purchasing  value  of  this  neat 
and  tidy  sum  equalled  $120  of  “  our  money,” 
ignoring,  in  this  pitiful  reckoning,  the  fact  that 
the  barter  was  made  in  beads  and  baubles,  such 
as  pleased  the  eye  of  the  simple  native,  and  not  in 
coin  of  the  realm.  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer  briskly 
disposes  of  any  false  sentiment  on  this  score  by 
remarking  that  “  of  course  Minuit  gave,  instead 
of  useless  money,  articles  that  had  an  immense  ( !  ) 
value  in  the  Indians’  eyes;”  and  lays  doubtful 
unction  to  her  soul  in  the  assertion  that  they  were 
not  (technically)  dispossessed  of  their  island,  but 
merely  pledged,  “  like  tenants  at  will  to  yield  from 
time  to  time  such  portions  of  it  as  the  white  men 
might  need — if,  indeed,  many  of  them  used  Man¬ 
hattan  as  an  actual  abiding-place.  Tbe  island,  for 
the  most  part,  seems  to  have  been  uninhabited 
although  constantly  frequented  by  the  savages 
who  lived  on  the  neighbouring  shores.” 

Be  this  amazing  reasoning  as  it  may,  and.  even 
admitting  the  hypothesis,  it  leaves  one  wondering 
how  the  present-day  commuters  would  feel  to  have 
their  holdings,  as  distinguished  from  their  places 
of  residence,  so  nonchalantly  rated,  the  lurid  fact 
remains;  and  the  sum,  inflated  to  its  Nth  purchas¬ 
ing  power,  fails  of  impressiveness  as  compared 


DUTCH  DOMINION 


43 


with  the  recent  selling  price  ($576  per  square 
foot)  of  land  on  the  corner  of  Wall  Street  and 
Broadway,  within  a  stone’s  throw  of  the  place  of 
original  sale. 

This  place  of  original  sale,  or  original  robbery, 
this  place  of  monumental  taking,  as  of  candy  from 
a  child,  is  pointed  out  as  the  rocky  point  of  land, 
since  known  as  the  Battery,  and  the  time — the 
month  of  May,  1626. 

Guileless  as  they  seemed — these  chiefs  of  the 
Manhattoes  and  Wickquaskeeks — their  bargain 
was  not  unconditioned.  They  reserved  for  them¬ 
selves  the  hunting  rights  in  the  most  prolific  part 
of  the  island,  whose  resources  none  knew  so  well 
as  they — the  richly  wooded  section  now  known  as 
Inwood ;  and  they  enforced  their  claim,  when  ques¬ 
tioned,  by  two  wars  and  a  massacre  which  depopu¬ 
lated  the  Bouwerie  farms  and  almost  annihilated 
the  little  hamlet  of  Haarlem,  until  their  rights 
were  recognized  in  equity  and  the  Dutch  magis¬ 
trates  bought  them  off  at  a  material  advance  on 
their  original  estimate  of  values. 

The  Dutchman’s  wildest  dreams  of  avarice  were 
as  disproportionate  to  the  stupendous  statement  of 
growing  valuations  with  which  we  are  at 
every  turn  confronted,  as  were  the  modest  de¬ 
mands  of  the  aborigine  to  Minuit’s  excellent 


44  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


knowledge  of*  the  bargain  he  had  so  unscrupu¬ 
lously  driven. 

Geologists  tell  us  that  the  trap  rock  under  the 
streets  of  New  York  is  the  oldest  part  of  the  sur¬ 
face  of  the  earth,  a  fact  which  lends  colour  to  the 
contrasting  and  perennial  rejuvenation  of  the 
unfinished  city.  The  Island  of  Manhattan  is  thir¬ 
teen  and  one-half  miles  in  length,  with  an  average 
width  of  one  and  three-quarter  miles;  its  maximum 
width  being  at  Fourteenth  Street,  where  it  is  two 
and  one-quarter  miles  across.  The  total  area  is 
about  twenty-two  square  miles  or  twenty-two  thou¬ 
sand  English  acres. 

The  surface  of  the  island  is  still  undulating  and 
rocky,  and  in  its  original  state  presented  many  ob¬ 
stacles  to  the  sober  ideals  of  the  city  plan,  which 
insisted  up  levelling  and  grading  in  the  interest 
of  those  “  pettifogging  ”  parallelograms,  which 
have  irritated  no  writer  more  perhaps  than  Mr. 
Henry  James,  from  whom  one  borrows  the  quali¬ 
fying  adjective. 

At  Washington  Heights,  the  ground  rises  to  an 
altitude  of  238  feet  from  the  Hudson,  but  slopes 
abruptly  towards  the  east  where  there  is  a  level 
stretch,  formerly  known  as  the  Harlem  Flats. 
Farther  to  the  south,  the  elevation  continues  as 
a  central  ridge  with  sloping  ground  on  each  side. 


DUTCH  DOMINION 


45 


With  the  exception  of  the  Harlem  plain  and  an 
extensive  bed  of  beach  sand  to  the  south  and  east 
of  City  Hall,  the  island  is  chiefly  rock,  overlaid 
with  a  generally  shallow  glacial  drift  deposit.  The 
greater  part  of  the  city  is  built  on  a  rock  founda¬ 
tion,  except  where  the  glacial  deposit  is  deep  and 
in  the  beach  sand  where  pile  foundations  are 
necessary. 

The  Hudson  River  was  called  by  its  discoverer 
the  “  Great  River  ”  or  the  Groot  Rivier.  After 
1623  it  was  sometimes  called  the  Mauritius,  in 
honour  of  Prince  Maurice  of  Orange ;  and  by  others 
it  was  known  as  the  Manhattan.  The  Indians 
called  it  the  Cohoihatated  or  Shatemuc  or  Mohican- 
nittuck.  Mariners  knew  it  as  the  North  River,  in 
contradistinction  to  the  South  River  (the  Dela¬ 
ware)  also  discovered  by  Hudson,  and  by  this 
name  New  Yorkers  proper  invariably  speak  of  it. 

Until  the  organization  of  the  provincial  govern¬ 
ment  under  the  first  governor,  such  colonists  as 
had  ventured  sporadic  settlement  of  the  island  had 
been  under  the  provisional  protection  of  Cornelius 
Jacobsen  May,  who  was  sent  out  with  the  first 
families  and  put  in  charge  of  the  affairs  of  the 
company.  Rude  huts  were  put  up  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  fort,  and  Pearl  Street,  the  first  identified 
roadway,  came  into  existence.  Pearl  Street  was 


46  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


at  this  time  the  water  front  and  followed  the  shore, 
leading  from  the  fort  to  the  Brooklyn  Ferry  at 
Peck  Slip. 

Peter  Minuit,  in  his  capacity  as  governor,  was 
invested,  by  the  West  India  Company,  with  full 
authority  over  all  the  Dutch  lands  in  America.  He 
organized  a  government  consisting  of  a  koopman, 
who  was  secretary  of  the  province;  a  schout- 
fiscal,  a  sort  of  sheriff,  attorney  general,  and 
custom  officer  combined;  and  a  council  of  five 
men. 

He  laid  out  the  lines  of  a  fort  on  the  site  of  the 
present  Custom  House,  on  the  spot  where  the  fur 
traders’  stockade  had  stood.  This  he  called  Fort 
Amsterdam.  Built  of  earth  and  stone  and  sur¬ 
rounded  by  cedar  palisades,  it  was  large  enough 
to  shelter  the  whole  community  in  case  of  danger; 
and  having  four  bastions,  it  rose  proudly  above  the 
little  group  of  settlers’  houses  clustered  about  its 
walls.  The  shore  line  was  much  less  extended  in 
those  days;  the  water  came  up  to  State  Street  on 
the  south,  while  Pearl  Street  followed  the  bank 
of  the  East  River,  as  has  been  said,  and  on  the 
other  side  from  Greenwich  Street,  the  land  sloped 
away  in  marshy  flats  to  the  water’s  edge.  The 
spot  where  Castle  Garden  now  stands  was  then  an 
island  two  hundred  feet  from  the  shore;  so  that 


COLONEL  ABRAHAM  DE  PEYSTER,  BY  GEORGE  EDWIN  BISSELL 
BOWLING  GREEN  (PAGE  88) 


DUTCH  DOMINION 


47 


the  fort  stood  close  to  the  water  and  easily  com¬ 
manded  the  entrances  to  the  North  and  East 
Rivers,  and  the  junction  of  their  currents  in  the 
Upper  Bay.  In  the  earliest  prints  of  the  settle¬ 
ment,  such  as  that  published  by  Joost  Hartger 
in  1651,  it  stands  out  as  the  dominating  landmark 
of  the  little  dorp  or  village  that  occupied  the 
southern  end  of  the  Manhattan  Island. 

As  the  Custom  House  faces  Bowling  Green 
to-day,  so  the  main  gate  of  the  fort  opened  on 
that  same  historic  spot  nearly  three  hundred  years 
ago,  for  it  has  maintained  its  identity  as  a  public 
garden  spot  throughout  the  entire  development 
of  the  city.  First  known  as  “  The  Plaine,”  it  was 
reserved  for  all  the  uses  of  a  village  green — a  play¬ 
ground  for  children,  a  parade  ground  for  soldiers, 
the  market-place,  the  annual  cattle  show;  while 
under  English  rule  a  Maypole  dance  on  the  green 
brought  youths  and  maidens  to  the  spot  at  the 
appropriate  season.  It  was  indeed  the  general 
meeting-place,  and  here,  upon  occasion,  the  Indians 
met  the  Whites  and  made  treaties  and  smoked 
the  pipe  of  peace. 

The  governor’s  house  was  inside  the  fort.  The 
large  warehouse  for  storage  of  furs,  the  staple 
export,  was  outside.  This  was  a  stone  building, 
thatched  with  reeds;  and  in  its  second  story  was 


48  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


a  room  used  as  a  place  of  worship  by  the  budding 
community. 

The  early  history  of  New  Netherland  is  domi¬ 
nated  by  the  will  and  ambitions  of  the  four  Dutch 
governors.  Peter  Minuit  bought  the  island,  built 
the  fort,  established  the  government,  and  divided 
the  lower  part  of  the  island  into  farms — called  in 
the  Dutch  vernacular,  bouweries — which  were  por¬ 
tioned  out  to  the  settlers  in  an  arbitrary  fashion. 
Of  these  an  interesting  record  is  preserved  in  the 
well-known  Duke’s  Plan,  a  draft  made  in  1664 
for  the  Duke  of  York  upon  the  capture  of  the 
town  by  the  English.  It  shows  the  disposition  of 
property;  the  existing  roadways,  later  to  become 
streets;  with  some  extensions  beyond  the  actual 
limit  of  the  city,  fixed  by  a  rude  fence  which  ex¬ 
tended  across  the  island  on  the  line  of  the  present 
Wall  Street,  and  which  had  been  built  to  keep 
cattle  from  straying  off  into  the  wilderness.  The 
Duke’s  Plan  is  in  the  custody  of  the  British  Mu¬ 
seum,  but  fac-similes  of  it  are  familiar  enough,  and 
it  has  been  repeatedly  reproduced. 

Wouter  Van  Twiller  devoted  his  opportunities, 
as  second  Dutch  governor,  to  the  acquisition  of 
property  for  himself,  buying  from  the  Indians 
the  spot  known  as  Governor’s  Island,  as  well 
as  Randall’s  and  Ward’s  Islands  in  the  East 


DUTCH  DOMINION  49 

River;  and  became  the  richest  landowner  in  the 

/ 

colony. 

William  Kieft,  called  William  the  Testy,  rebuilt 
houses  and  put  down  smugglers.  He  instituted  the 
fairs  that  were  held  on  Bowling  Green,  where 
cattle  and  pigs  were  exhibited,  and  this  brought 
so  many  people  to  the  island  that  a  tavern  had 
to  be  erected  to  house  the  transients.  This  was 
a  large  stone  house,  of  typical  Dutch  architecture, 
such  as  one  sees  to-day  in  Amsterdam,  with  the 
odd  gable  end  pointed  towards  the  street;  and 
it  stood  at  the  head  of  Coentie’s  Slip,  in  Pearl 
Street,  where  a  bronze  tablet,  erected  by  the 
Holland  Society,  at  No.  73,  marks  the  site  of 
Kieft’s  Stadt  Herbergh,  or  tavern,  which 
became  the  Stadt  Huys,  or  first  City  Hall, 
in  1653-54. 

The  nomenclature  of  the  streets  of  the  old  town 
followed  the  lines  of  least  resistance,  and  are  rich 
in  significance.  Pearl  Street,  including  Stone, 
followed  the  water  side  and  took  its  name  from 
the  quantity  of  pearly  shells  left  there  by  receding 
tides;  it  was  the  first  defined  roadway  on  the 
island,  though  Broadway  is  said  to  have  existed 
as  an  Indian  trail.  A  second  road  stretched  up 
through  the  island,  through  the  bouweries ,  and 
leading  to  outlying  farms,  and  may  be  identified 


50  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


as  the  old  Bowery,  or  Bouwerie  Lane,  as  it  then 
was  called. 

During  Governor  Kieft’s  administration  the 
first  of  the  Indian  wars,  that  occasionally  devas¬ 
tated  the  settlement,  was  precipitated  by  the  gov¬ 
ernor’s  treachery  towards  the  natives,  and  so 
thorough  were  they  in  their  vengeance  that  scarcely 
an  hundred  men  were  left  to  tell  the  tale,  and  the 
country  was  laid  waste. 

Till  now  the  barrier  for  confining  the  cattle  had 
been  but  a  peacefid  precaution;  in  1653  it  gave 
way  to  a  strong  city  wall  or  palisade,  built  by 
Peter  Stuyvesant,  the  last  of  the  Dutch  governors, 
to  defend  New  Amsterdam  against  the  Indians. 
Bastions  stood  on  sites  in  the  rear  of  Trinity 
churchyard,  No.  4  Wall  Street,  the  Sub-Treasury, 
and  at  the  head  of  Hanover  Street;  and  at 
Pearl  Street  a  Half  Moon  Battery  was  located,  to 
protect  the  water  gate.  The  wall  stood  until  1699, 
and  gave  the  name  to  the  busy  thoroughfare  which 
now  marks  its  extent. 

Peter  Stuyvesant,  the  one-legged  governor  of 
New  Amsterdam,  is  the  picturesque  and  sterling 
figure  which  identifies  itself  indissolubly  with  the 
fortunes  of  the  early  settlers.  While  the  others 
retired  to  Holland  after  short  and  selfish  domina¬ 
tion,  he  not  only  endeared  himself  to  the  people, 


“FORT  orange"  (ALBANY)  IN  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY 
DECORATION  IN  THE  COLLECTOR’S  ROOM,  UNITED  STATES 
CUSTOM  HOUSE,  BY  ELMER  E.  CARNSEY  (PAGE  95) 


DUTCH  DOMINION 


51 


but  cared  enough  for  this  country  to  return  to  it 
after  his  unhappy  surrender  to  the  English,  and  to 
make  it  his  home  until  his  death.  His  bones  rest 
in  a  charming  old  church,  built  on  the  site  of  an 
older  one  that  he  himself  erected  on  his  bouwerie , 
far  beyond  the  city  limits  of  his  time. 

Stuyvesant  was  a  faithful  servant  of  the  West 
India  Company,  having  lost  his  leg  fighting  in 
its  service.  Under  him  the  colony  became  a  city, 
with  a  mayor,  two  burgomasters,  and  five  schep- 
ens;  and  these,  excepting  always  the  mayor,  pre¬ 
sided  over  the  trials  which  were  held  in  the  stone 
house,  which  Kieft  had  built,  and  which  now  be¬ 
came  the  Stadt  Huys,  at  the  head  of  Coentie’s 
Slip. 

Governor  Stuyvesant  built  him  a  house,  in  1658, 
called  White  Hall,  and  the  road  which  led  to  it 
still  bears  the  name  of  the  house,  which  stood  at 
what  is  now  the  southwest  corner  of  Pearl  and 
Whitehall  Streets.  Per  el  Straet  in  those  days 
extended  only  as  far  as  the  governor’s  house, 
after  passing  which  the  name  changed  to  the 
Strand. 

Coentie’s  Slip  is  one  of  the  few  preserved  Dutch 
names  which  used  to  abound  in  this  region.  It 
was  an  inlet  in  the  days  when  the  Stadt  Huys  was 
built,  and  its  peculiar  name  comes  from  a  cor- 


52 


A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


ruption  of  Conraet  Ten  Eyck,  as  the  owner  of 
the  land  about  here  was  called.  The  filled-in  slip, 
now  buried  beneath  Jeanette  Park,  accounts  for 
the  width  of  the  street. 

I  think  it  is  Felix  Oldboy  who  said  that  a 
Dutchman  no  sooner  finds  himself  housed  than 
he  looks  about  to  see  where  he  can  dig  a  canal. 
The  land  settled  by  the  Netherlanders  on  Manhat¬ 
tan  Island  gave  ample  opportunity  for  the  exercise 
of  this  ruling  passion.  The  coast  line  was  full  of 
little  inlets,  the  interior  swampy,  and  badly 
drained  by  a  little  creek  running  through  what  is 
now  Broad  Street;  and  the  whole  conformation 
of  the  lower  island  adapted  itself  readily  to  the 
character  imposed  by  a  Dutch  community". 

The  swampy  region  extending  along  Broad 
Street  from  Exchange  Place  to  South  William 
Street  was  reclaimed  by  the  digging  of  a  glorious 
Dutch  canal  through  Broad  Street  (known  to  the 
burgomasters  as  the  lleerc  Gracht)  to  Beaver 
Street,  north  of  which  it  narrowed  into  a  ditch. 
A  street  was  laid  out  on  both  sides  of  the  canal, 
and  it  became  a  favourite  place  of  residence.  The 
English,  with  their  horror  of  smells,  filled  it  up 
after  it  had  become  a  public  nuisance,  in  1676. 
The  swampy  character  has  recently  shown  its 
persistence  when  excavations  were  made  for  cer- 


DUTCH  DOMINION 


53 


tain  high  buildings,  and  it  has  been  necessary  to 
dig  deep  to  secure  solid  foundations. 

Broadway,  even  in  those  days,  was  the  central 
artery  of  New  York  and  is  said  to  have  existed 
as  an  Indian  trail  before  the  Whites  landed  on 
the  island.  It  was  called  Heere  Straat,  or  Breede- 
weg  by  the  Dutch,  the  latter,  of  course,  Hollandish 
for  its  present  name,  derived  from  the  broad  way 
that  led  from  the  entrance  of  the  old  fort  up  to 
the  gate  in  the  wall.  The  street  was  wide  near 
the  fort  to  give  room  for  the  soldiers  to  drill. 

The  original  Dutch  city,  of  which  the  present 
Wall  Street  was  the  northern  boundary,  grew  in 
a  haphazard  manner.  Settlers  built  their  houses 
wherever  they  pleased,  and  roadways  were  opened 
to  give  access  to  the  houses:  the  footpaths  and 
cowpaths,  and  canals  and  ditches,  incidentally 
established,  developed  into  thoroughfares,  and  con¬ 
tributed  to  the  tangle  of  streets  characteristic  of 
lower  New  York.  Pearl  Street,  laid  out  in  1633, 
was  the  first  residential  street,  the  original  huts 
of  the  transient  settlers  being  built  along  the  water 
front  under  the  guns  of  the  fort.  After,  Pearl 
Street  was  extended  to  become,  in  a  way,  the  most 
curious  street  in  New  York.  It  begins  and  ends 
in  Broadway,  describing  an  irregular  half-circle 
in  its  path.  “  Straight  like  Pearl  Street  ”  has 


54 


A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


become  a  figure  of  speech  with  certain  merchants 
of  the  present  city  in  giving  the  character  of  their 
business  associates. 

It  is  certainly  a  great  pleasure,  in  a  city  so 
doomed  to  stupid  regularity,  to  find  this  little 
oasis  where  one  can  lose  one’s  self,  and  where 
names  of  streets  have  association  and  interesting 
significance.  New  Street  was  “  new  ”  in  1G79,  and 
is  still  thus  distinguished;  Stone  Street  changed 
its  name  from  Brouwer  Straat,  derived  from  the 
company’s  brewery,  at  No.  10,  to  its  present  ap¬ 
pellation  because  it  was  the  first  street  of  the  city 
to  be  paved  (with  cobblestones  in  1657).  Hanover 
Square  was  called  for  George  I,  of  Hanover;  and 
William  Street  took  its  name  from  William  of 
Orange,  later  William  III. 

When  war  was  declared  between  England  and 
Holland,  in  1652,  the  population  of  New  Amster¬ 
dam  numbered  about  one  thousand  people,  con¬ 
stituting  a  thriving  little  community.  That  they 
had  little  loyalty  to  their  native  land  is  certain 
from  the  small  show  of  resistance  that  was  made 
to  the  change  of  government. 

In  1664  Charles  II.  basing  his  claim  to  the 
locality  upon  the  voyages  of  the  explorers  John 
and  Sebastian  Cabot  (whose  discoveries  of  the 
same  region,  it  was  alleged,  antedated  Hudson’s 


THE  DUKE'S  PLAN.  REPRODUCED  FROM  A  FACSIMILE  OF  THE  ORIGINAL  IN  THE 
BRITISH  MUSEUM  :  “A  DESCRIPTION  OF  THE  TOWNE  OF  MANNADOS,  OR 
NEW  AMSTERDAM,  AS  IT  WAS  IN  SEPTEMBER,  1663.”  MADE  FOR  THE 
DUKE  OF  YORK  WHEN  THE  ENGLISH  FIRST  TOOK  POSSESSION 
OF  THE  PROVINCE  (PAGE  55) 


JOOST  HARTGERS'’  VIEW  OF  NEW  AMSTERDAM 
THE  EARLIEST  KNOWN  PICTURE  OF 
NEW  YORK  (PAGE  46) 


DUTCH  DOMINION 


55 


by  about  one  hundred  years)  simply  gave  New 
Netherland  to  his  brother,  James,  Duke  of  York. 

In  the  suite  of  this  high-handed  proceeding  the 
Duke  at  once  sent  over  four  ships  filled  with  sol¬ 
diers  to  take  possession  of  his  property.  The  town 
was  ill  protected.  The  fort  was  such  in  name  only, 
and,  as  historians  have  pointed  out,  Stuyvesant 
and  the  other  governors  had  made  frequent  com¬ 
plaint  to  headquarters  of  its  insecurity  against  the 
ravages  of  goats  and  cows  that  roamed  the  pas¬ 
tures  ;  and  it  stood  upon  such  low  ground  that  from 
the  heights  in  the  rear  it  could  be  readily  over¬ 
looked.  It  had  not  been  built  with  the  thought 
of  real  warfare,  but  only  as  a  retreat  from  savage 
inroads  and  such.  Furthermore,  the  community 
was  willing  to  risk  the  advantage  to  itself  of  a 
change  from  Dutch  to  English  rule,  hoping  for 
greater  leniency  and  freedom  under  the  latter,  and 
refused  to  aid  in  the  defence. 

On  September  8,  1664,  Stuyvesant,  at  the  head 
of  his  soldiers,  evacuated  Fort  Amsterdam  with¬ 
out  resistance;  the  English  soldiers  took  posses¬ 
sion,  and  the  city  of  New  Amsterdam  became  the 
city  of  New  York;  the  province  of  New  Nether¬ 
land  became  the  province  of  New  York;  and 
Fort  Amsterdam  was  called  Fort  James  in  honour 
of  the  Duke  of  York. 


5t>  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Stuyvesant’s  story  of  his  surrender  was  ill 
received  by  the  company  in  Holland,  whither  he 
went  at  once  to  make  his  report;  and  he  returned 
to  take  up  his  holdings  on  Manhattan  Island, 
established  his  residence  on  his  former  country 
seat,  known  as  the  great  Bouwerie,  not  far  from 
St.  Mark’s-in-the-Bowery,  near  the  intersection  of 
Tenth  and  Stuyvesant  Streets.  Here  he  died,  and 
his  remains  lie  undisturbed  in  the  family  vault 
included  in  the  foundations  of  the  present  church 
edifice. 

The  Dutch  retook  New  Netherland  in  1G73, 
retaining  possession  for  less  than  a  year,  during 
which  time  the  city  was  called  New  Orange,  in 
deference  to  the  Prince  of  Orange,  who,  by  his 
marriage  to  the  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  York, 
became  William  III  of  England.  Within  the 
year  the  complete  and  final  restoration  of  the 
province  was  made  to  England,  and  the  colony 
entered  upon  the  most  eventful  epoch  of  its  history. 


IV 


ENGLISH  RULE 

A  perspective  map  of  New  York,  preserved 
in  the  du  Simitiere  Collection  of  the  Philadelphia 
Library,  gives  the  outstanding  features  of  the  city 
as  it  appeared  when,  by  the  peace  of  1674,  it 
became  an  English  province  for  the  second  time, 
and  was  thenceforward  gradually  to  lose  its  exclu¬ 
sive  Knickerbocker  character. 

At  this  time  we  may  picture  an  essentially 
Dutch  town,  built  upon  the  water  front,  and  upon 
canals;  its  houses  presenting  their  serrated  gable 
ends  to  the  street,  in  true  Hollandish  fashion.  The 
first  houses  had  been  of  wood,  practically  one- 
story  log  cabins ;  but  as  the  colony  prospered,  social 
distinctions  arose,  and  the  well-to-do  settlers  began 
to  build  their  homes  of  brick  and  stone.  Bricks 
at  first  were  imported  from  Holland,  but,  under 
the  last  of  the  Dutch  governors,  yards  were  opened 
in  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  while  the  natural 
resources  of  the  island  yielded  an  abundance  of 
stone.  The  gable  ends  were  often  of  black  and 

57 


58  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


yellow  bricks,  bearing  the  date  of  their  erection, 
noted  in  iron  figures.  The  type  was  distinctly 
Dutch,  with  small  diamond-paned  windows  and 
large  doors,  in  two  sections,  so  practical  for  keep¬ 
ing  the  children  within  and  at  the  same  time,  by 
leaving  the  upper  half  open,  furnishing  all  the 
advantages  of  neighbourliness  to  the  passer-by. 

The  fires  which  ravaged  the  city  during  the 
Revolution  and  subsequent  improvements  have 
robbed  us  of  every  vestige  of  the  old  Dutch  town; 
but  one  important  heritage  persists  in  the  high 
“stoop”  ( stoep )  which  the  colonials  built  from 
force  of  habit,  to  protect  the  best  rooms  from  the 
dangers  of  inundation,  a  necessary  precaution  in 
the  old  country;  and  thus  fastened  upon  the  city 
one  of  its  most  characteristic  architectural  features, 
and  upon  the  vernacular  an  amusing  Dutch- 
derived  word,  purely  local  in  its  usage. 

With  thrift  and  industry  the  Dutch  settlers 
combined  the  love  of  pleasure  and  good  cheer. 
They  observed  the  national  feast  days — Christmas, 
New  Year’s  Day,  Easter,  Whitsuntide,  and  St. 
Nicholas  Day — and  made  merry  on  their  individual 
family  anniversaries  with  feasting,  games,  and 
dance.  The  custom  of  New  Year’s  calls,  long  ob¬ 
served  religiously  in  New  York,  was  established 
at  this  time,  when  no  gentleman  of  social  pre- 


ENGLISH  RULE 


59 


tentions  failed  to  pay  his  respects  to  every  lady 
of  his  acquaintance  on  the  first  day  of  the  year. 
The  ladies,  on  the  other  hand,  were  expected  to 
keep  open  house,  and  to  offer  “  a  piece  of  cake 
and  a  glass  of  wine  ”  to  their  callers,  a  courtesy 
so  much  appreciated  in  later  times,  when  the 
rivalry  between  the  ladies,  in  the  quality  and 
quantity  of  hospitality  offered,  became  so  brisk, 
that  the  gentlemen  were  victimized  by  their  own 
gallantry,  and  fairly  incapacitated  for  making  their 
rounds.  Thus  the  custom,  by  an  excess  of  zeal 
in  the  observance,  defeated  its  own  ends,  and  died 
a  natural,  if  opprobrious  death. 

The  chief  development  of  the  city,  during  the 
first  hundred  years  of  its  founding,  was  along  the 
East  River,  known  as  the  Salt  River  in  those  days, 
its  impressive  feature  to  the  community  being  its 
most  practical  one,  its  saltness,  which  meant  im¬ 
munity  from  freezing  and  thus  interfering  with 
ships  and  cargoes.  The  Hudson,  though  washed  by 
salt  tides,  is  inherently  fresh,  and  has  been  known 
to  freeze  in  bitter  weather,  and  to  be  frequently 
blocked  by  ice,  washed  down  in  the  current  from 
the  north;  whereas  the  East  River,  literally  an 
arm  of  the  sea,  connecting  the  Upper  Bay  with 
Long  Island  Sound,  was  never  subject  to  these 
inconveniences. 


60  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


A  ferry  to  Brooklyn  was  started  as  early  as 
1651,  from  Peck  Slip;  and  the  shipping  interests 
extended  along  the  East  River,  bringing  ware¬ 
houses  in  their  train,  as  well  as  the  establishment 
of  business  interests  of  various  kinds  near  to 
the  ferry,  in  order  to  catch  the  Long  Island 
trade. 

The  city  sloped  away  from  the  high  ridge  of 
groimd  along  the  line  of  Broadway,  which  was 
really  a  distant  and  unfrequented  part  of  the 
town,  while  west  of  this  thoroughfare  were  but 
open  fields.  This  is  readily  explained  by  a  glance 
at  the  old  maps. 

In  the  original  apportionment  of  the  farms 
on  the  lower  end  of  the  island,  provision  had 
been  made  for  the  benefit  of  the  civil  and  military 
servants  of  the  West  India  Company.  The  Com¬ 
pany  Farm,  as  it  was  called,  extended  west  of 
Broadway  to  the  river,  between  the  present  Fulton 
and  Warren  Streets.  This  land  has  always  been 
held  intact,  identified  under  various  titles  as  gov¬ 
ernment  changed.  The  British,  upon  occupation 
of  the  island,  passed  it  over  to  the  private  uses  of 
the  Duke  of  York,  increasing  the  property  by  the 
purchase  of  the  farm  of  Annetje  Jans,  which  ex¬ 
tended  as  far  north  as  the  present  Christopher 
Street.  When  the  Duke  of  York  became  king, 


ENGLISH  RULE 


61 


this  tract  was  known  as  the  King’s  Farm,  and 
when  it  became  the  royal  property  of  Queen  Anne, 
as  the  Queen’s  Farm. 

This  grant  as  described  by  Mrs.  Lamb  in  her 
history  of  New  York  consisted  of  sixty-two  acres 
granted  to  Roelof  Jans  beginning  south  of  War¬ 
ren  Street,  extending  along  Broadway  as  far  as 
Duane  Street,  thence  in  a  northwesterly  direction 
for  a  mile  and  a  half  to  Christopher  Street,  form¬ 
ing  a  sort  of  unequal  triangle  with  its  base  upon 
the  North  River. 

Roelof  Jans  died  soon  after  receiving  this  grant, 
leaving  a  wife  and  four  children;  and  his  widow, 
Annetje,  married  Dominie  Bogardus,  in  1638, 
whereupon  her  farm  was  known  as  the  Dominie 
Bouwerie.  When  the  English  took  possession  of 
the  island  this  grant  was  confirmed  by  the  govern¬ 
ment;  the  heirs  sold  the  farm  in  1671  to  Governor 
Lovelace;  it  was  afterwards  incorporated  into  the 
King’s  Farm,  and  in  1703  was  presented  by  Queen 
Anne  to  Trinity  Church. 

This  farm  constituted  Queen  Anne’s  munificent 
grant  to  the  English  Church  in  the  Island  of 
New  York  which  has  made  the  Trinity  Cor¬ 
poration  at  the  present  day  so  powerful  a  factor 
in  the  growth  and  development  of  the  city.  The 
English  Church  in  the  Island  of  New  York  meant, 


62  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


in  those  days,  Trinity  Church,  the  parent  church 
from  which  all  the  rest  have  sprung.  The  corpo¬ 
ration  has  preserved  the  grant  practically  intact, 
and  still  retains  possession  of  it.  This  farm  for 
many  years  blocked  the  westward  growth  of  the 
city,  the  citizens  naturally  preferring  to  build 
where  they  could  acquire  title  to  the  land. 

The  English  rulers  of  the  province  did  little  to 
distinguish  themselves,  and  proved,  if  possible,  less 
to  the  taste  of  the  colonials  than  the  Dutch  gov¬ 
ernors.  Most  of  them  were  men  of  harsh  manner, 
despotic  in  their  rule,  and  chiefly  interested  in  get¬ 
ting  what  they  could  for  themselves  out  of  the 
colony.  Colonel  Richard  Nicholls,  who  was  in 
command  of  the  British  soldiers  when  the  fort  was 
taken,  became  the  first  English  governor,  and  by 
tact  and  moderation  contrived  to  win  the  esteem 
of  the  people.  He  made  little  change  in  the  city 
government,  and  appointed  as  mayor  Thomas 
Willett,  a  man  well  known  and  well  liked  in  the 
community.  The  “  Duke’s  Laws  ”  proved  liberal 
both  in  letter  and  in  spirit,  providing  that  no 
Christian  should  be  molested  for  his  religious  be¬ 
liefs — an  especially  grateful  clause,  carried  out  in 
practice  when,  upon  the  introduction  of  the  Eng¬ 
lish  church  in  the  colony,  the  Dutch  dominie  and 
the  English  chaplain  made  common  use  of  the 


ENGLISH  RULE 


63 


church  within  the  fort,  one  occupying  it  in  the 
morning  and  the  other  in  the  afternoon. 

Nicholls  was  succeeded  by  Colonel  Francis  Love¬ 
lace,  whose  effort  was  all  for  the  growth  and  bet¬ 
terment  of  the  province.  He  established  a  Mer¬ 
chants’  Exchange,  whose  meetings  were  held  once 
a  week'at  about  where  Exchange  Place  now  crosses 
Broad  Street,  fixing  upon  that  locality  its  present 
inheritance;  and  he  also  started  the  famous  mail 
route  to  Boston.  Each  first  Monday  of  the  month, 
the  mail  coach,  in  the  hands  of  a  carrier  whom 
Lovelace,  in  a  letter  to  Governor  Winthrop  of 
Connecticut,  describes  as  “  active,  stout,  and  in¬ 
defatigable,”  set  out  from  New  York,  making  its 
first  stage  Hartford,  and  expected  to  return  within 
the  month  from  Boston.  The  first  mail  from  New 
York  to  Boston,  also  the  first  on  the  continent, 
started  on  New  Year’s  Day,  1673,  following  bridle¬ 
path  and  Indian  trail,  directing  the  course  of 
the  future  highway  that  still,  beyond  the  Harlem 
River,  retains  the  name — Boston  Post  Road. 

The  interruption  in  English  rule  caused  by  the 
retaking  of  the  province  by  a  Dutch  fleet,  in  1673, 
as  an  incident  in  the  naval  war  then  on  between 
England  and  Holland,  dislodged  Lovelace,  and 
when  by  the  treaty  of  Westminster  New  Nether- 
land  was  transferred  from  the  States  General  to 


04  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Charles  II,  that  monarch  restored  it  to  his  brother, 
who  appointed  Edmund  Andros,  a  major  of  dra¬ 
goons  to  the  post  of  governor.  It  was  he  who 
caused  the  passage  of  the  Bolting  Act,  in  1678, 
which  granted  New  York  merchants  a  monopoly 
of  the  manufacture  of  flour,  and  laid  the  founda¬ 
tion  of  the  city’s  fortunes.  So  important  a  mea¬ 
sure  was  it  that  we  And  it  symbolized  in  the  seal 
of  New  York,  whose  shield  bears  the  sails  of  a 
windmill  and  the  two  flour  barrels  in  commemo¬ 
ration  of  the  Bolting  Act.  The  two  beavers,  al¬ 
ternating  with  the  barrels  between  the  blades  of 
the  sail,  refer  to  that  earliest  industry  of  the  island, 
the  fur  trade.  The  sailor  and  Indian,  supporting 
the  shield,  stand,  respectively,  for  the  Duke  of 
York,  in  his  character  of  Lord  High  Admiral  of 
England,  and  the  aboriginal  inhabitants  of  his 
American  province.  The  bald  eagle  rising  from 
a  demi-tcrrestial  globe,  replaces  the  crown  of  the 
original  seal. 

Colonel  Thomas  Dongan.  a  genial  Irishman, 
was  the  best  of  the  English  governors,  a  man  of 
high  birth  and  character,  who  secured  for  the  prov¬ 
ince,  under  the  Dongan  Charter,  in  1686,  the  most 
definite  advance  towards  self  government  yet  ac¬ 
corded  any  of  the  colonies.  This  charter  of  liber¬ 
ties  still  forms  the  basis  of  New  York’s  civic 


ENGLISH  RULE 


65 


rights.  Amended  by  Queen  Anne,  in  1708,  and 
further  amplified  by  George  II,  in  1730,  into  the 
Montgomery  Charter,  it  was  confirmed  by  the  as¬ 
sembly  of  the  province  in  1782,  making  New  York 
virtually  a  free  city. 

But  for  the  most  part  these  were  lawless  days, 
and  governors  came  with  pomp  to  be  sent  away  in 
disgrace.  Meantime  piracy  flourished  practically, 
it  has  been  thought,  under  the  protection  of  offi¬ 
cials  of  the  province.  Governor  Fletcher  was  sus¬ 
pected  of  sharing  in  private  booty ;  and  merchants, 
who  feared  to  carry  on  regular  trade  as  their 
ships  were  almost  sure  to  be  seized,  openly  bought 
the  pirates’  cargoes,  contending  that  “  they  were 
right  in  purchasing  goods  wherever  found,  and 
were  not  put  upon  inquiry  as  to  the  source  from 
which  they  were  derived.”  Indeed  so  well  did  the 
merchants  and  shipowners  of  New  York  and  the 
“  privateers,”  as  the  Red  Sea  men  were  politely 
called,  understand  one  another,  that  the  pirate 
captain,  in  rich  yet  outlandish  garb,  was  a  familiar 
figure  in  the  streets  of  New  York  towards  the  end 
of  the  seventeenth  century. 

With  French  and  English  vigilance  scouring 
the  southern  waters  in  determined  effort  to  put 
down  the  practice,  and  increasing  defection  of 
Gallic  and  British  pirate  captains  who  showed  a 


66  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


meek  willingness  to  adopt  honesty  as  the  best  pol¬ 
icy,  when  driven  to  extremes,  the  news  that  pi¬ 
racy,  disguised  as  privateering,  was  winked  at  by 
the  New  York  authorities,  circulated  rapidly 
among  the  captains  serving  under  the  black  flag. 
New  York  became  the  universal  port  of  refuge 
where  piratical  booty  was  disposed  of  at  enormous 
gains,  and  no  questions  asked,  for  the  profits  were 
mutual  and  home  products  entrusted  to  the  buc¬ 
caneers  for  sale  at  their  Madagascar  rendezvous 
brought  fabulous  returns  on  the  original  invest¬ 
ment. 

Suddenly,  however,  this  was  all  to  end  with  the 
withdrawal  of  Fletcher  and  the  appointment  of 
Lord  Bellomont,  whose  mission  was  to  put  down 
piracy  at  all  costs.  By  a  curious  irony  of  fate, 
his  first  effort  in  this  direction  launched  the  noblest 
pirate  of  them  all,  the  famous  Captain  Kidd,  a 
Scot,  resident  of  New  York,  highly  recommended 
as  a  seaman  of  known  honesty  and  valour,  who 
had  proved  his  bravery  as  a  privateer  against  the 
French,  and  for  some  years  commanded  the 
packet,  Antigua,  trading  between  New  York  and 
London.  In  1695,  on  the  recommendation  of 
Robert  Livingston,  a  colonist,  then  in  London, 
Bellomont  placed  Kidd  in  command  of  a  privateer, 
giving  him  letters  of  marque  against  the  French, 


ENGLISH  RULE 


67 


with  a  special  commission  to  suppress  piracy.  His 
ship,  the  Adventure,  sailed  from  Plymouth  for 
New  York,  and  from  New  York  to  Madagascar, 
with  a  crew  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  men.  He 
was  financed  by  a  syndicate  and  took  shares  to 
the  amount  of  six  thousand  dollars,  Livingston 
signing  his  bond  for  one-half  that  amount.  Thirty 
thousand  dollars  was  subscribed  and  the  profits 
of  the  cruise,  less  a  royalty  of  ten  per  cent  for 
the  king,  were  to  be  divided  among  the  members 
of  the  syndicate.  Just  how  this  peculiar  deal 
squared  itself  with  the  strict  line  of  law  and  equity 
it  was  supposed  to  uphold  defies  a  casual  analysis. 
At  any  rate,  the  king,  though  a  stockholder,  took 
the  precaution  not  to  advance  the  money  for  his 
share  in  so  equivocal  an  enterprise.  Kidd  followed 
the  lines  of  least  resistance.  Failing  as  an  op¬ 
ponent  of  piracy,  he  succumbed  to  the  entreaties 
or  threats  of  a  mutinous  crew,  replaced  his  ensign 
with  a  black  flag,  and,  plundering  and  sinking 
ships,  became  a  terror  of  the  seas.  His  adventur¬ 
ous  career  ended  in  1699,  when,  having  exhausted 
his  ingenuity  in  eluding  his  pursuers,  he  appeared 
in  the  eastern  end  of  Long  Island  Sound,  where, 
burying  his  treasure,  as  we  are  told,  on  Gardiner’s 
Island,  he  opened  communication  with  Lord  Bel- 
lomont,  who  was  then  in  Boston.  Representing 


68  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


himself  as  the  victim  of  his  crew,  turned  pirate 
against  his  will,  he  offered  to  share  a  large  part 
of  his  booty  with  the  governor  or  the  syndicate 
of  noblemen  who  had  sent  him  to  the  East  Indies. 
Bellomont  heard  his  story,  and,  on  the  ground  of 
his  failure  to  account  for  the  Quedah  Merchant, 
his  last  prize,  sent  him  to  England,  where  he  was 
tried  at  Old  Bailey,  and  hanged  on  Execution 
Dock,  in  the  city  of  London — the  victim  of  his 
own  misdeeds  and  the  scapegoat  for  a  pretty 
complication  of  political  treachery. 

During  Lord  Bellomont’s  administration  a  first 
effort  was  made  to  light  the  streets  by  means  of 
a  lantern,  fitted  with  a  candle,  hung  on  a  pole  from 
the  window  of  every  seventh  house;  and  a  night 
watch  was  established  consisting  of  four  men. 
The  governor  removed  what  remained  of  the  city 
wall  and  laid  out  Wall  Street  on  the  line  of  the 
fortification;  he  erected  the  new  city  hall  in  Wall 
Street  near  Nassau  Street,  equipped  with  dun¬ 
geons  for  criminals,  cells  for  debtors,  a  court  room, 
and  such  modern  improvements  commensurate 
with  the  city’s  growth.  The  city  hall  also  con¬ 
tained  the  first  library,  afterwards  known  as  the 
Society  Library. 

Under  Governor  Hunter,  in  1711,  the  first  slave 
market  was  established  at  the  foot  of  Wall  Street, 


ENGLISH  RULE 


69 


and  negroes  began  to  form  a  large  proportion  of 
the  city’s  population.  Slave  importation  into 
New  York  began  some  time  prior  to  1628,  and 
reached  a  climax  about  1746,  when  a  census  of 
the  city  revealed  the  presence  of  twenty-four  hun¬ 
dred  negroes  in  a  total  population  of  less  than 
twelve  thousand  souls.  The  same  insensate  fear 
of  the  unknown  and  incalculable  that  led  the 
Whites  to  inhuman  treatment  of  the  native  In¬ 
dians  was  now  turned  with  even  more  injustice 
against  the  race  which  they  had  imported  to  these 
shores.  Under  the  constant  dread  of  a  servile 
insurrection,  rigid  and  cruel  laws  regulating  the 
conduct  of  negroes  were  enforced,  and  a  fury  of 
feeling  grew  up  against  the  slaves,  who  were 
accused  of  plotting  against  their  masters  and  of 
committing  the  most  frightful  depredations. 
The  slightest  infringement  of  the  laws  that  de¬ 
prived  them  of  most  of  the  blessings  of  liberty 
met  with  instant  and  unmitigated  punishment. 
The  burning  and  hanging  of  negro  slaves,  in  the 
little  valley  beyond  the  Collect  Pond,  became  the 
order  of  the  day,  and  a  most  pitiable  state  of 
affairs  ensued,  in  which  the  harassed  blacks  con¬ 
fessed  to  crimes  of  which  they  were  innocent  in 
order  to  save  their  lives;  the  panic  culminating 
in  the  famous  “  Negro  Plot,”  of  1741,  only  com- 


70 


A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


parable  in  its  terrible  expiation  to  the  witchcraft 
abominations  of  Salem,  in  the  previous  century. 
When  it  was  all  over  a  revulsion  of  feeling  took 
place  in  favour  of  the  negroes,  who,  in  ten  years, 
were  admitted  to  the  franchise,  while  slavery  was 
practically  abolished,  in  1758,  by  the  act  declaring 
all  children  born  of  slave  parents  from  that  time 
free. 

This  was  New  York  until  about  the  time  of  the 
outbreak  of  the  Revolution. 


y 


THE  OLD  TOWN 

One  grows  to  have  favourite  spots  in  New  York. 
To  me  one  of  the  most  agreeable  is  that  occupied 
by  Ward’s  heroic  statue  of  the  first  President,  on 
the  steps  of  the  Sub-Treasury.  Not  only  does  it 
make  perhaps  the  most  dignified  and  consistent 
picture  in  the  whole  city;  it  commands  one  of  the 
really  thrilling  prospects  on  the  island. 

The  concentrated  essence  of  historic  New  York 
is  confined  in  this  small  area  spread  before  you. 
From  . the  steps  of  the  Sub-Treasury  it  is  amusing 
to  fancy  one’s  self  standing  upon  one  of  the  ram¬ 
parts  of  the  ancient  wall,  overlooking  the  old 
Dutch  town,  which  lay  to  the  south  and  east  of 
the  spectator.  The  Fort  and  the  Stadt  Huys 
dominated  the  southern  view,  marking,  in  their 
relation  to  this  vantage  point,  opposite  angles  of 
an  imaginary  equilateral  triangle. 

The  region  between  Coentie’s  Slip  and  White¬ 
hall  Street  was  the  site  of  the  first  city  dock,  the 

71 


72  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


corner-stone  as  one  may  say  of  the  metropolis, 
the  progenitor  of  our  thirty  or  more  miles  of 
wharves.  It  was  built  by  the  West  India  Com¬ 
pany,  whose  quaint,  round-bottomed,  high-pooped 
ships  were  the  first  vessels  to  anchor  there.  As 
late  as  1702  this  dock  formed  almost  the  sole 
wharfage  of  the  city. 

Made  ground  has  obliterated  all  trace  of  this 
dock,  and  the  old  Dutch  city  was  destroyed  by 
fire,  so  that  no  vestige  remains  to  give  colour  to 
one’s  mental  picture,  save  the  very  important  one 
— the  character  and  complexity  of  the  old  streets. 

The  breadth  of  Broad  Street,  as  one  surveys  it 
from  the  portico  of  the  Sub-Treasury,  the  peculiar 
bend  which  it  takes  at  Exchange  Place,  suggest 
the  existence  of  the  old  canal,  which  we  know  it 
superseded.  Bridge  Street  marks  the  site  of  the 
old  bridge  across  the  canal;  and  Beaver  Street, 
then  Bcvcr  Gracht,  led  to  the  swamp  in  Broad 
Street,  and  was  drained  by  a  small  canal  or  ditch. 
In  this  delightful  labyrinth  there  are  no  parallels; 
State  and  Pearl  Streets  swept  in  a  generous  curve 
about  the  lower  end,  skirting  Battery  Park  and 
the  former  shore  line;  and  all  sorts  of  short  cuts 
are  invited  by  the  unruly  way  in  which  streets  run 
into  and  over  each  other  in  their  intensity  of  life 
and  activity.  If  historic  landmarks  are  few,  a 


THE  OLD  TOWN 


73 


plentiful  distribution  of  tablets,  diligently  erected 
by  the  various  societies  interested  in  colonial  relics, 
marks  most  of  the  important  sites. 

The  statue  of  Washington,  conceived  as  the 
great  legendary  figure  towards  which  the  whole 
country  looked,  as  to  a  father,  in  the  days  of  the 
young  republic,  stands  on  the  spot  where,  in  1789, 
he  took  the  oath  of  office  and  became  the  first 
President  of  the  United  States.  The  Sub-Treas¬ 
ury  replaces  the  second  state  house  of  colonial 
days,  which,  in  honour  of  the  great  event  about  to 
take  place  there,  had  been  remodelled  by  the 
French  architect,  L’Enfant,  the  same  who  made 
the  plan  of  Washington,  and  converted  into  Fed¬ 
eral  Hall.  When  Chancellor  Livingston,  who 
administered  the  oath,  exclaimed,  “  Long  live 
George  Washington,  President  of  the  United 
States!  ”  thirteen  cannon  were  discharged  and  the 
shouts  of  the  immense  crowd  in  Wall  and  Broad 
Streets  reechoed  the  proclamation. 

Pervaded  by  an  interest  at  once  human  and 
heroic,  Ward’s  statue  is  singularly  apt  and  im¬ 
pressive.  The  whole  harmony  of  the  design  sug¬ 
gests  consecration  and  power,  emphasized  by  the 
simple  gesture  of  the  lifted  hand,  betokening 
reserve  and  authority;  giving  as  no  other  statue 
of  our  hero  has  done,  the  immense  symbolic  weight 


74  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


of  his  presence.  Not  self-crowned,  like  Napoleon, 
he  accepts  the  greatest  honour  that  his  country  had 
to  grant  with  a  simple  dignity  infinitely  more  con¬ 
vincing.  Set  in  the  midst  of  the  supreme  struggle 
of  our  greatest  city,  the  figure  maintains  a  large, 
national  significance;  remains  an  essentially  per¬ 
manent  type  and  exemplar. 

The  statue  was  erected  in  1883,  by  public  sub¬ 
scription,  under  the  auspices  of  the  Chamber  of 
Commerce.  At  its  foot  was  formerly  the  original 
slab  of  brown  stone  upon  which  Washington  stood 
when  taking  the  oath  of  office.  This  is  preserved, 
under  glass  and  in  a  heavy  bronze  frame,  on  the 
south  wall  of  the  interior  of  the  building.  Relic 
hunters  may  identify  parts  of  the  railing  of  the 
balcony,  from  which  Washington  delivered  his 
inaugural  address,  at  the  Historical  Society,  and 
in  front  of  the  Bellevue  Hospital. 

These  fragments  are  all  that  remain  of  an 
original  historic  structure,  pulled  down,  in  1812, 
to  make  way  for  the  present  edifice,  which  served 
fifty  years  as  the  Custom  House  of  New  York. 
The  building  followed  the  mode  of  the  day,  which 
was  all  for  Greek  temples. 

Arnold  Bennett’s  disappointment  in  our  famous 
Wall  Street  as  the  seething  centre  of  the  cele¬ 
brated  “  American  hustle,”  now  quelled  by  the 


GEORGE  WASHINGTON,  BY  JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS  WARD. 

ON  THE  STEPS  OF  THE  SUB-TREASURY  BUILDING  (PAGE  73) 


THE  OLD  TOWN 


75 


perfection  of  the  mechanical  contrivances  that  have 
literally  transformed  the  methods  of  the  Stock 
Exchange,  was  that  of  the  keen  traveller  alert  for 
local  colour.  Certainly  the  ingenuity  of  the  inven¬ 
tions  which  facilitate  the  mighty  transactions  of 
this  great  bourse  have  completely  changed  the 
character  for  which  Wall  Street  was  far-famed. 
The  telephones  and  the  annunciator  are  indis¬ 
putably  the  features  of  the  building;  and  it  is 
amusing  to  compare  the  old  cumbrous  methods 
with  the  perfect  installation  of  scientific  devices 
by  which  a  member  may  be  communicated  with 
freely,  without  a  spoken  word,  and  without  leaving 
his  seat. 

In  each  of  the  two  side  walls  of  the  room  is  a 
great  checkerboard,  containing  twelve  hundred 
rectangles  of  glass.  Behind  each  rectangle  is  a 
member’s  number,  which  may  be  shown  in  different 
coloured  lights  from  behind.  These  lights  can  be 
so  alternated  as  to  make  a  perfectly  intelligible 
sign  language,  according  to  a  secret  code. 

George  B.  Post,  one  of  the  builders  of  New 
York,  was  the  architect  of  the  building,  its  con¬ 
struction  having  presented  a  pretty  problem, 
attacked  courageously;  for  in  it  Mr.  Post  attempt¬ 
ed  to  combine  all  the  requirements  of  the  most 
modern  of  structures  with  an  ornamental,  massive 


76  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


facade,  topped  by  a  pediment  that  should  rival  in 
sculpture  the  great  pediments  of  the  world.  Much 
has  been  sacrificed  to  secure  the  feature  of  the 
building,  that  vast  room,  whose  ends  are  simply 
great  sheets  of  glass  to  afford  light  for  negotia¬ 
tions  of  the  greatest  speculative  mart  in  the  world. 
A  portico  of  six  Corinthian  columns  partially  dis¬ 
guises  this  opening,  and  behind  these  columns 
stand  mullions,  hung  from  girders  overhead,  con¬ 
structed  to  resist  the  force  of  the  wind  against 
the  glass  and  to  support  its  immense  weight. 

The  pediment,  another  fine  example  of  the  work 
of  John  Quincy  Adams  Ward,  has  been  criticized 
for  its  lack  of  constructive  significance,  the  build¬ 
ing  being  high  and  square,  behind  the  fa9ade, 
which  is  applied  like  an  excrescence  to  its  struc¬ 
tural  face.  But  the  sculpture  within  the  pediment 
calls  for  serious  consideration,  and  may  be  ocn- 
sidered  one  of  the  interesting  artistic  features  of 
this  quarter. 

If  the  figures,  eleven  in  number,  overwhelmingly 
massive,  seem  to  fall  out  into  the  street,  it  is 
because  one  cannot  in  a  narrow  thoroughfare  get 
far  enough  away  from  the  building  to  see  things 
in  their  proper  relations.  Angle  views  can  be  had 
from  the  high  portico  of  the  Sub-Treasury,  or 
within  the  vestibule  of  the  Mills  Building.  But 


THE  OLD  TOWN 


77 


directly  in  front,  in  Broad  Street,  one  is  simply 
crushed  and  sees  nothing.  This  great  general 
fault  of  all  the  buildings  in  lower  New  York 
gives  one  a  feeling  of  suffocation  and  surfeit;  and 
things  fine  and  impressive  in  themselves  lose  im¬ 
portance  and  seem  often  in  very  bad  taste,  like 
fingers  loaded  to  the  joints  with  massive  rings, 
which  impress  one  merely  with  their  intrinsic 
worth  and  tell  nothing  of  their  individual  beauty. 

The  pediment  is  admirable  in  its  flowing,  cumu¬ 
lative  lines,  its  effective  grouping,  and  interesting 
contrasts  of  light  and  shade.  It  is  strong  and 
simple  in  design,  with  none  of  the  superflous  de¬ 
tails  which  encumber  most  pediments.  Its  story 
is  expressed  by  the  central  figure,  “  Integrity,” 
the  grave  impersonation  of  business  honour,  sur¬ 
rounded  by  the  usual  allegorical  groups.  The 
weather  has  played  amusing  tricks  with  the  marble, 
already  veined  and  spotted  with  grey,  adding  to 
its  undoubted  picturesqueness.  Though  the  pedi¬ 
ment  was  the  design  of  Ward,  the  execution  is  by 
Paul  Wayland  Bartlett,  who  has  recently  com¬ 
pleted  the  pediment  for  the  House  Wing  of  the 
United  States  Capitol. 

A  bronze  tablet,  erected  by  the  Sons  of  the 
Revolution  at  the  corner  of  Broad  and  Beaver 
Streets,  calls  attention  to  the  historic  site  where 


78  A  LOITEKER  IN  NEW  YORK 


the  patriot,  Marinus  Willett,  halted  the  ammuni¬ 
tion  wagons,  guarded  by  British  soldiers,  single- 
handed  on  June  6,  1775,  as  they  were  attempting 
to  carry  arms  to  Boston. 

We  are  now  upon  recognizable  historic  ground. 
At  the  corner  of  Broad  and  Pearl  Streets  that 
handsome  colonial  house  on  the  left  in  Fraunce’s 
Tavern,  one  of  the  oldest  buildings  in  the  city, 
rich  in  Revolutionary  memories,  and  intimately 
associated  with  General  Washington,  dividing 
honors,  in  this  respect,  with  St.  Paul’s  Chapel,  and 
the  Jumel  and  Van  Cortlandt  Mansions. 

The  shore  line  of  the  East  River,  extended  sev¬ 
eral  blocks  by  the  filling-in  process,  originally 
came  up  to  the  site  upon  which  Fraunce’s  Tavern 
now  stands.  The  property,  once  part  of  the  Van 
Cortlandt  Manor,  was  deeded  by  Colonel  Stephen 
Van  Cortlandt  to  his  son-in-law,  Etienne  de  Lan- 
cev,  a  Iluguenot  nobleman,  and  an  active  merchant 
in  the  city.  It  was  he  who  built  the  present  house, 
as  his  residence,  in  1710.  It  takes  its  name  from 
Samuel  Fraunce,  a  West  Indian  Creole,  vulgarly 
known  as  “  Black  Sam  ” — a  freeman,  who  opened 
here  the  Queen’s  Head,  or  Queen  Charlotte 
Tavern,  named  for  the  consort  of  George  III. 

The  Chamber  of  Commerce  was  organized  here 
in  the  “  Long  Room,”  so  called  from  the  long 


THE  OLD  TOWN 


79 


Indian  lodges  used  for  tribal  meeting;  and  many 
other  interesting  things  happened  here,  but  none 
so  important  as  its  use  by  General  Washington,  as 
a  temporary  headquarters,  when  the  British  evac¬ 
uated  New  York,  at  the  close  of  the  Revolution. 
Here  at  noon,  on  December  4,  1783,  the  touching 
farewell  took  place  between  Washington  and  his 
forty-four  officers;  a  ceremony  so  simple  and 
affecting  finds  few  parallels  in  history. 

The  return  to  the  city,  alone,  was  a  melancholy 
business.  The  town  was  in  a  deplorable  condition; 
the  wide  tract,  swept  by  the  fire  of  1776,  still  lay 
in  blackened  ruins,  and  no  effort  to  rebuild  had 
been  made  except  where  mere  wooden  shelters  had 
been  put  up  by  the  soldiers,  and  desolation  pre¬ 
vailed. 

Fraunce’s  Tavern  is  now  owned  by  the  Society 
of  the  Sons  of  the  Revolution,  who  restored  the 
building,  taking  formal  possession  on  December  4, 
1907.  The  present  appearance  is  believed  to  be 
practically  the  same  as  during  the  Revolutionary 
period,  the  utmost  care  and  pains  having  been 
taken  by  the  architect  of  the  restoration,  William 
H.  Mersereau,  not  only  to  preserve  every  brick 
and  beam  of  the  original  structure,  but  to  match 
what  was  missing  by  bricks  brought  from  contem¬ 
porary  buildings  in  Maryland,  or  imported  from 


80  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Holland.  The  first  floor  is  still  used  as  a  restau¬ 
rant.  On  the  second  floor  is  the  famous  Long 
Room,  containing  portraits  of  Frederick  Samuel 
Tallmadge  and  John  Austin  Stevens;  while  the 
third  floor  is  devoted  to  the  purposes  of  a  museum 
of  Revolutionary  relics. 

Edwin  Austin  Abbey  has  pictured  the  historic 
Rowling  Green  in  what  is  said  to  be  his  first  deco¬ 
ration,  the  famous  picture,  which  hangs  over  the 
bar,  in  the  Hotel  Imperial.  Done,  of  course,  from 
imagination,  aided  by  much  authentic  data,  the 
picture  has  all  the  charm  and  accuracy  of  the 
work  of  this  famous  American  painter. 

It  is  a  long  panel,  dating  well  back  to  the  early 
eighties,  when  Abbey  was  better  known  as  illus¬ 
trator  than  painter.  In  the  picture,  he  has,  as 
always,  been  very  particular  as  to  his  facts.  A 
game  of  bowls  is  in  progress  on  the  green ;  a  group 
of  several  men  in  sporting  costumes  of  the  period, 
are  playing,  while  another  keeps  score.  These 
men  are  very  possibly  Colonel  Philipse,  John 
Roosevelt,  and  John  Chambers,  to  whom  “  The 
Plaine  ”  was  leased,  in  1733,  for  eleven  years,  at 
a  nominal  rental  of  “  one  peppercorn  a  year  to 
be  maintained  by  them  as  a  bowling  green,  fenced 
in,  and  laid  out  with  pretty  walks  for  themselves 
and  other  citizens.  When  the  lease  expired  the 


THE  OLD  TOWN  81 

price  for  the  privilege  was  raised  to  twenty  shill¬ 
ings  per  annum. 

Behind  the  green  to  the  right,  presumably  on 
Broadway,  stand  Dutch  brick  houses  with  their 
broken  gables,  and  to  the  left,  south  of  the  park, 
the  fort,  with  soldiers  drilling  in  front,  and  a  wind¬ 
mill.  It  is  spring,  to  judge  from  the  delicate 
colour  of  the  grass  and  the  touch  of  high  green 
foliage,  just  breaking  upon  the  trees.  A  woman 
and  child,  dressed  picturesquely,  according  to  the 
prevailing  mode  of  the  period,  make  a  centre  of 
interest  in  the  picture  as  they  watch  the  game 
of  bowls. 

Bowling  Green,  once  the  heart  of  the  Dutch 
colony,  now  marks,  roughly  speaking,  the  half¬ 
way  spot  in  the  length  of  Greater  New  York.  In 
the  old  days  it  was  the  scene  of  stirring  events. 
The  Stamp  Act  Riot  centred  here,  in  1765,  when 
Governor  Colden  was  burned  in  effigy  on  the 
green;  and  later  the  equestrian  statue  of  George 
III,  the  first  piece  of  public  statuary  on  the 
island,  was  set  up  for  a  brief  space  in  this  place. 

Old  records  tell  of  its  arrival,  together  with  the 
marble  statue  of  William  Pitt,  ordered  by  the 
patriots,  on  the  Brittannia,  in  June,  1770,  and  of 
its  erection  “  with  great  ceremony  ”  on  August 
16,  of  the  same  year.  It  was  of  lead,  richly  gilt, 


82  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


and  has  gone  down  to  history  as  the  work  of 
Joseph  Wilton,  a  well-known  English  sculptor 
of  the  epoch;  and  in  the  old  engraving  of  the 
subject  it  is  represented  as  a  classic  king  seated 
on  a  rearing  charger,  preserving  its  equilibrium 
by  perfect  balance,  after  the  fashion  of  the 
Andrew  Jackson  before  the  White  House. 

More  authentic  evidence  would  seem  to  prove 
that  in  a  general  way  it  resembled  the  Marcus 
Aurelius,  of  the  Capitoline  Hill,  from  which  it 
was  doubtless  imitated.  It  is  recorded  that  Wilton 
made  a  replica  of  this  statue  for  London,  and  one 
fancies  that  this  was  none  other  than  what  the 
author  of  “  Nollekins  and  his  Times  ”  describes  as 
“  that  miserable  specimen  of  leaden  figure  taste, 
the  equestrian  statue  of  King  George  III,  lately 
standing  in  the  centre  of  Berkeley  Square.”  This 
he  tells  us  was  executed  under  the  direction  of  Mr. 
Wilton,  on  his  premises,  in  Queen  Anne  Street 
East,  and  that  “  it  was  modelled  by  a  French 
artist  of  the  name  of  Beaupre,  recommended  to 
Wilton  by  Pigalle.  as  an  excellent  carver  of 
flowers.” 

It  had  a  short  life  and  a  gay  one,  standing  less 
than  six  years,  for  it  was  dragged  down  by  a 
patriotic  mob,  after  the  reading  of  the  Declaration 
of  Independence,  July  9.  1776,  and,  to  do  the  thing 


THE  OLD  TOWN 


83 


thoroughly,  melted  into  bullets  of  agression  against 
the  same  king  it  had  been  designed  to  honor.  The 
fractures  in  the  posts  of  the  iron  fence  surrounding 
the  little  park  still  bear  witness  to  the  fury  of 
this  mob,  for  they  broke  off  the  balls  to  cast  into 
the  same  vindictive  melting  pot. 

A  tablet  at  No.  1  Broadway  commemorates  the 
occasion,  and  the  New  York  Historical  Society 
preserves  a  collection  of  interesting  relics,  includ¬ 
ing  four  or  five  fragments  of  the  statue,  picked 
up  on  the  farm  of  Peter  S.  Coley,  at  Wilton,  Con¬ 
necticut,  and  the  pedestal,  which  served  in  the 
interim  as  a  grave-stone  to  Major  John  Smith 
of  the  Royal  Highland  Regiment.  This  pedestal 
shows  the  three  holes  left  by  the  imprint,  so  to 
speak,  of  the  horse’s  hoofs — thus  proving  that  he 
was  not  a  rearing  animal,  but  that  he  stood  on 
three  legs,  in  conventional  statue  style. 

The  whole  history  of  the  statue  is  fraught  with 
romantic  incident.  The  journal  of  Captain  John 
Montressor,  chief  engineer  of  the  British  Army, 
published  by  the  New  York  Historical  Society, 
in  1881,  contains  the  following  illuminating  entry: 
“  My  hearing  that  the  Rebels  had  cut  the  King’s 
head  off  the  Equestrian  Statue  (in  the  centre  of 
the  Ellipps  near  the  fort)  at  New  York,  which 
represented  George  III  in  the  figure  of  Marcus 


84 


A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Aurelius;  and  that  they  had  cut  the  nose  off,  dipt 
the  laurels  that  were  wreathed  round  his  head,  and 
drove  a  musket  bullet  part  of  the  way  through 
his  head,  and  otherwise  disfigured  it,  and  that  it 
was  carried  to  Moore’s  tavern,  adjoining  Ft. 
Washington,  on  New  York  Island,  in  order  to  be 
fixed  on  a  spike  on  the  Truck  of  that  flagstaff,  as 
soon  as  it  could  be  got  ready,  I  immediately  sent 
Corby  thro’  the  Rebel  Camp  in  the  beginning 
of  September,  1776,  to  Cox  (John  Cock)  who  kept 
the  tavern  at  King’s  Bridge,  to  steal  it  from  thence, 
and  to  bury  it,  which  was  effected,  and  it  was  dug 
up  on  our  arrival,  and  I  rewarded  the  men  and 
sent  the  head  by  the  Lady  Gage  to  Lord  Town- 
shend  in  order  to  convince  them  at  home  of  the 
infamous  disposition  of  the  ungrateful  people  of 
this  distressed  country.” 

The  tradition  in  Wilton,  where  the  fragments 
owned  by  the  Historical  Society"  were  found,  in 
1871,  is  that  the  ox-cart  carrying  the  broken 
statue  passed  through  Wilton  on  its  way  to  Litch¬ 
field,  and  that  the  saddle  and  tail  were  thrown 
away  there,  perhaps  to  lighten  the  load,  or  more 
probably  because  they  were  not  of  pure  lead  and 
unsuitable  for  making  bullets.  Most  of  the  statue 
seems  to  have  reached  its  destination,  and  a  very 
interesting  book,  published  by  Caroline  Clifford 


THE  OLD  TOWN 


85 


Newton,  called  “  Once  Upon  a  Time  in  Connecti¬ 
cut,”  describes  the  operation  of  running  the  bullets 
by  the  women  and  girls  of  the  town  and  a  ten-year- 
old  boy,  directed  by  an  old  general.  The  ladle 
used  in  pouring  the  lead  into  the  moulds  is  in  the 
Litchfield  Historical  Museum,  and  amongst  Gov¬ 
ernor  Walcott’s  papers  is  a  memorandum  stating 
that  42,088  cartridges  were  made  from  the  remains 
of  the  monument  and  that  “  His  Majesty’s  statue 
was  returned  to  His  Majesty’s  troops  with  the 
compliments  of  the  men  of  Connecticut.” 

There  is  preserved  in  the  Historical  Society  of 
New  York  a  sketch  of  the  Bowling  Green  statue, 
compiled  from  contemporary  data,  by  Charles  M. 
Lefferts.  It  shows  the  monarch  wearing  the 
Roman  toga,  for  sculpture  was  then  under  the 
influence  of  the  classic  revival,  and  it  was  unheard- 
of  to  dress  a  subject  in  his  ordinary  clothes. 
Nearby  are  the  fragments. 

This  room  in  the  Historical  Society  always 
suggests  one  of  my  earliest  childhood  memories. 
My  sister  and  I  had  a  passion  for  paper  dolls 
which  we  used  to  cut  from  fashion  magazines  and 
clothe  with  garments  made  from  the  coloured  fly 
leaves  of  my  father’s  choicest  books.  He  had,  in 
particular,  a  stack  of  pamphlets  describing  a  steam 
engine  of  his  invention,  and  covered  with  a  glorious 


86  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


paper,  with  velvet  finish,  in  strong  cobalt  blue. 
Extensive  wardrobes  for  our  dolls  were  gleaned 
from  this  treasure  trove,  our  tracks  being  cleverly 
concealed,  for  an  indefinite  period,  by  the  simple 
device  of  beginning  our  inroads  from  the  bottom 
of  the  pile,  and  using  only  the  under  sides  of 
the  covers. 

Our  activities  were  such  that  these  dolls  used 
to  pile  up  on  us  beyond  our  ability  to  house  and 
care  for  them;  and  my  sister,  who,  even  in  those 
days,  combined  with  a  fertile  imagination  and  a 
strong  streak  of  romanticism,  a  remarkable  sense 
of  order  that  led  to  unheard-of  sacrifices  of  pos¬ 
sessions  in  her  periodical  “  riddings  out,”  conceived 
the  idea  of  holding  wholesale  “  cremations  ”  of 
these  dolls,  as  over-population  required  it.  She 
was  as  powerful  and  autocratic  in  her  authority 
as  Herod,  when  he  ordered  the  slaughter  of  the 
innocents,  and  no  reserves  were  allowed.  She  was 
as  callous  as  Nero,  when  he  watched  the  burning 
of  Rome;  suffering  the  loss  of  mine  and  her  own 
with  equal  stoicism,  and  glorying  in  the  sight  with 
an  eclecticism  that  brooked  no  appeal,  carrying 
my  feeble  regrets  and  hankerings  as  straws  before 
the  wind. 

The  funeral  pyre,  once  lighted,  was  allowed  to 
burn  itself  out;  and,  after  the  extinction  of  the 


THE  OLD  TOWN 


87 


flames,  it  was  our  morbid  pleasure  to  rake  over 
the  ashes  and  identify  such  portions  of  anatomy 
as  had  escaped  total  destruction.  These  we  pasted 
into  a  mortuary  book,  kept  for  the  purpose,  and 
meticulously  labelled,  each  according  to  its  history 
— “  Remains  of  Eva  Livingston,”  “  Arm  of  Flor¬ 
ence  Raymond,”  etc. 

The  “  remains  ”  of  George  III,  as  well  as  those 
of  Peter  Stuyvesant’s  Pear  Tree,  all  carefully 
varnished  and  presented  by  a  descendant  of  the 
governor,  strike  me  as  just  as  humorous,  and,  if 
I  may  say  so,  just  as  silly  as  this  enfantillage  of 
my  extreme  youth;  but  it  is  rather  delicious  .to 
find  august  dignitaries  at  the  same  game. 

There  is  also  preserved  in  the  same  room  of  the 
Society  the  fragment,  sans  head  and  arms,  of  the 
contemporary  marble  statue  of  William  Pitt,  also 
in  classic  draperies,  erected  by  the  colonists,  in 
gratitude  for  Chatham’s  influence  in  the  repeal 
of  the  hated  Stamp  Act.  This  statue  stood  in 
Wall  Street  until  it  was  overthrown  and  mutilated 
by  the  British  soldiers,  in  revenge  for  the  outrage 
committed  on  the  George  III,  soon  after  their 
occupancy  of  New  York,  at  the  outset  of  the 
Revolution. 

The  Green  assumed  its  present  oval  form  about 
1797.  The  seated  figure  of  Colonel  Abraham  de 


88  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Peyster  now  decorating  with,  as  Taft  says,  “  much 
presence,”  the  grassy  spot,  is  considered  one  of 
the  two  best  works  of  George  E.  Bissell,  an 
American  sculptor. 

Bissell  was  for  many  years  a  stone  carver,  and 
entered  the  field  of  sculpture  late  in  life,  so  that 
while  he  is  contemporary  in  point  of  years  with 
many  of  the  earlier  sculptors  of  this  country  (he 
was  born  in  1839),  his  work  belongs  with  that  of 
a  later  generation.  This  statue  of  de  Peyster 
brought  him  into  prominence  in  a  pleasant  way, 
for  in  the  autumn  of  1902  a  committee  of  local 
sculptors,  requested  by  a  New  York  journal  to 
designate  the  six  finest  examples  of  monumental 
sculpture  in  the  city,  chose  Bissell’s  figure  as  one 
of  them. 

It  was  said  that  his  Chancellor  Watts  wrould 
have  been  chosen  except  that  it  stood  in  Trinity 
churchyard,  and  was  not  a  public  monument. 
Certainly  his  portrait  statues  gain  greatly  over 
most  that  the  city  has  to  show  in  a  live  quality  of 
personal  interest.  Even  in  such  a  case  as  that 
of  the  de  Peyster.  an  early  mayor  of  New  York, 
who  died  as  far  back  as  1728,  so  that  the  portrait 
must  be  largely  drawn  from  imagination,  Bissell 
makes  him  live,  revealing  him  as  interesting 
as  his  vivid  fancy  pictures  him  to  have  been. 


“AFRICA,”  BY  DANIEL  CHESTER  FRENCH 

ENTRANCE  UNITED  STATES  CUSTOM  HOUSE  (PAGE  91) 


“ENGLAND,”  BY  CHARLES  GRAFLY 
ATTIC  UNITED  STATES  CUSTOM 
HOUSE  (PAGE  9l) 


THE  OLD  TOWN  89 

The  rarity  of  such  a  performance  is  not  to  be 
depreciated. 

An  elaborate  inscription  details  de  Peyster’s 
many  civic  services  duly  inscribed  on  the  pedestal, 
which  also  records  the  interesting  fact  that  the 
portrait  was  erected  by  John  Watts  de  Peyster, 
of  the  seventh  generation,  in  direct  descent,  and 
the  sixth  born  in  the  first  ward  of  the  City  of 
New  York. 

The  Custom  House,  which,  like  the  old  fort, 
whose  site  it  occupies,  fronts  upon  Bowling  Green, 
is  the  design  of  one  of  New  York’s  ablest  archi¬ 
tects,  Cass  Gilbert.  A  fine  building  in  itself  and 
built  upon  historic  ground,  it  is  rich  in  sculpture 
without  and  painting  within. 

A  tablet  in  the  Collector’s  Room  records  the 
history  of  the  site.  We  know  that  here  was 
erected,  in  1626,  under  Governor  Minuit,  Fort 
Amsterdam,  succeeding  the  original  stockade  or 
traders’  fort  of  earliest  times.  Within  the  fort 
was  the  director  general’s  house  and  the  Church  of 
St.  Nicholas,  or  the  Church-in-the-Fort,  erected  in 
1642,  and  the  mother  of  the  Collegiate  Dutch 
Church  in  New  York. 

After  the  demolition  of  the  fort  in  1790,  the 
so-called  Government  House,  intended  as  the 
presidential  residence  of  the  United  States  capital, 


90  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


was  built  upon  this  ground.  This  political  mis¬ 
sion  it  never  fulfilled,  as  New  York  remained  the 
capital  for  only  a  year,  and  the  house  was  not 
ready  for  occupancy  till  too  late.  It  was,  how¬ 
ever,  the  official  residence  of  Governor  Clinton  and 
Governor  Jay,  and  later  was  used  as  the  Custom 
House,  until  burned  in  the  year  1815. 

The  present  building,  erected  1902-07,  is  planned 
in  the  style  of  modern  French  architecture.  Large 
granite  columns,  crowned  with  composite  capi¬ 
tals  that  extend  around  the  four  sides  of  the 
building,  make  it  impressive,  even  in  the  crowded 
environment  of  lower  Broadway.  In  this  respect, 
however,  it  has  immense  advantage,  over  most  of 
the  buildings,  in  the  protection  of  the  little  park 
upon  which  it  fronts,  while  the  Battery  insures 
the  open  space  to  the  water,  on  its  western 
exposure. 

In  the  design  of  the  building  an  effort  was  made 
to  have  it  representative  of  American  art  as  wTell 
as  American  commerce,  and  commissions  were 
given  to  eleven  of  our  best  sculptors,  for  the  fig¬ 
ures  which  adorn  the  facade.  Of  this  the  most 
satisfactory  are  the  four  groups,  symbolizing  the 
four  continents,  which,  on  pedestals  advanced  from 
the  building,  flank  the  entrance.  These  are  by 
Daniel  Chester  French.  In  their  solidity  and 


THE  OLD  TOWN 


91 


repose,  they  recall,  a  little,  the  seated  figures  of 
the  French  provinces,  which  surround  the  Place 
de  la  Concorde  in  Paris.  The  figure  of  Africa 
is  particularly  expressive  of  the  mighty  traditions 
of  that  continent  as  well  as  its  immense  reserve 
power.  The  woman  sleeps  easily  between  the  two, 
making  no  effort  to  profit  by  the  glory  of  the  past 
nor  to  develop  the  possibilities  of  the  future. 

The  twelve  heroic  figures,  representing  the  sea¬ 
faring  powers  ancient  and  modern,  which  have 
influenced  the  commerce  of  the  globe,  carry  out 
the  lines  of  the  twelve  columns  that  support  the 
attic  on  the  main  front.  These  figures  stand  forth 
rather  flamboyantly  from  the  wall  behind  them, 
without  much  sense  of  belonging  to  the  building. 
Beginning  on  the  left  the  subjects  are  Greece  and 
Rome,  done  by  F.  E.  Elwell;  Phoenicia,  by  F.  M. 
Ruckstuhl;  Genoa,  by  Augustus  Lukeman;  Venice 
and  Spain,  by  F.  M.  L.  Tonetti;  Holland  and 
Portugal,  by  Louis  Saint  Gaudens;  Denmark,  by 
Johannes  Gelert;  Germany,  by  Albert  Jaegers; 
and  France  and  England,  by  Charles  Grafly. 

It  is  a  motley  company  thus  assembled  on  the 
attic  story,  for  sculptural  unity  has  been  sacrificed 
to  historic  fact,  and  each  figure  seems  to  insist 
upon  its  individuality  to  the  detriment  of  the  en¬ 
semble.  Some  sculptors  have  chosen  to  represent 


92 


A  LOITERER  IX  NEW  YORK 


the  country  allotted  to  them  by  famous  personages 
in  the  history  of  those  countries;  others  by  the 
commonplace  symbolic  figure;  and  still  another 
by  a  Greek  goddess.  All  are  encumbered  by 
accessories  which  identify  the  country  without 
stirring  the  imagination  of  the  spectator 
more  than  that  of  the  sculptor  was  agitated  in 
his  rather  stupid  acceptance  of  the  first  symbol 
at  hand. 

In  front  of  the  seventh  story,  over  this  row  of 
figures  is  a  cartouche  by  Karl  Bitter,  displaying 
the  shield  of  the  United  States,  supported  by  two 
female  figures,  and  surmounted  by  the  American 
eagle  with  outstretched  wings.  The  cartouche 
over  the  main  entrance  is  by  Andrew  O’Connor. 

The  four  sides  are  richly  embellished  with 
motives  suggested  by  the  world-wide  commerce 
of  the  United  States,  of  which  seventy-five  per 
cent  is  said  to  enter  through  the  port  of  New 
York.  The  head  of  Mercury,  ancient  god  of  com¬ 
merce,  is  repeated  in  the  capitals  of  the  columns; 
and,  cut  in  the  granite  lintel  of  each  window, 
carved  heads,  representing  the  eight  types  of  race, 
are  repeated  alternately. 

Paintings  of  seventeenth  century  ports,  by 
Elmer  E.  Garnsev,  make  the  Collector's  Room  in 
the  Custom  House  one  of  the  finest  rooms  in 


“NEW  AMSTERDAM”  IN  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY 
DECORATION  IN  THE  COLLECTOR'S  ROOM,  UNITED  STATES 
CUSTOM  HOUSE,  BY  ELMER  E.  GARNSEY  (PAGE  93) 


"FRANCE,”  BY  CHARLES  GRAFLY 
ATTIC  UNITED  STATES  CUSTOM  HOUSE 

(page  91) 


THE  OLD  TOWN 


93 


New  York.  Mr.  Garnsey  did  also  the  mural 
painting  in  the  entrance  hall  of  the  building. 

The  ten  decorative  panels  in  the  Collector’s 
Reception  Room  represent  the  ports  of  Amster¬ 
dam,  Curaj^ao,  Fort  Orange,  New  Amsterdam, 
La  Rochelle,  London,  Port  Royal,  Plymouth, 
Cadiz,  and  Genoa. 

This  period  Mr.  Garnsey  selected  because  of 
its  picturesque  possibilities;  and  these  ports  be¬ 
cause  of  their  relation  to  the  discovery,  settlement, 
and  commerce  of  the  Dutch  and  English  colonies 
in  the  new  world.  The  views  show  the  ports  as 
they  were  in  1674,  the  last  year  in  which  the  Dutch 
flag  floated  over  Fort  Amsterdam,  whose  walls 
enclosed  the  site  of  the  Custom  House. 

The  painting  of  New  Amsterdam  is  particularly 
interesting  in  its  accuracy,  and  from  it  one  can 
learn  much  about  old  New  York.  The  picture 
reverses  the  viewpoint  of  Abbey’s  decoration  of 
Bowling  Green,  where  the  port  was  seen  from 
shore.  In  this  case  the  spectator  is  supposed  to 
be  upon  the  water,  looking  at  the  island  from  the 
East  River.  It  is  amusing  to  identify  the  fort,  as 
it  appeared  after  its  sod  walls  and  palisades  had 
been  replaced  by  stone.  From  the  rocky  point 
outside  the  walls  of  the  fort,  friends  of  departing 
voyagers  had  their  last  view  of  the  disappearing 


94  A  LOITERER  IX  NEW  YORK 


sails  beyond  the  Narrows.  The  name  of  Schreyers 
Hoek,  or  Weepers’  Point,”  bestowed  upon  this 
spot,  recalled  to  the  exiles  Schreyers  Toern,  the 
Weepers’  Tower  of  old  Amsterdam. 

On  the  river  shore  stands  Stuyvesant’s  house, 
“  White  Hall.”  This  shore  was  at  first  protected 
by  wooden  piles  and  sheathing,  and  later  by  stone. 
From  the  shore  were  built  out  various  extensions 
and  bulkheads  to  form  havens  for  river  craft. 
These  havens  became  gradually  filled  with  wraste 
and  dredgings  which  caused  new  extensions  to  be 
made,  until  the  three  blocks  at  present  lying  be¬ 
tween  Pearl  Street  and  the  river  were  all  filled 
in  and  added  to  Manhattan  Island.  The  picture 
shows  the  lleere  Gracht  that  followed  the  course 
of  the  present  Broad  Street,  and  emptied  into  the 
river  near  the  site  of  Fraunce’s  Tavern. 

Fronting  on  the  water,  now  Pearl  Street, 
between  the  Fort  and  the  lleere  Gracht  were  ware¬ 
houses  and  shops,  of  which  the  largest  was  the 
Company’s  warehouse.  Under  English  rule  it 
became  the  Custom  House,  until  it  was  pulled 
down  in  1T<>0.  The  site  is  now  numbered  33  Pearl 
Street.  The  buildings  of  the  town,  standing  in 
compact  order  north  as  well  as  south  of  the  Heere 
Gracht,  were  mostly  of  brick,  and  were  nearly 
all  devoted  in  some  measure  to  mercantile  pur- 


THE  OLD  TOWN 


95 


poses.  Near  the  right-hand  end  of  the  picture  the 
building  with  the  cupola  is  the  Stadt  Huys,  or 
City  Hall.  Here  the  director  and  the  council  of 
the  colonies  long  held  court;  and  when,  in  1670, 
the  English  governor,  Francis  Lovelace,  built  the 
new  inn  adjoining  it  on  the  west,  he  had  a  con¬ 
necting  door  opened  in  the  wall  between  his 
hostelry  and  the  court-room  to  facilitate  hospi¬ 
tality. 

In  the  foreground  appear  two  large  merchant 
ships,  just  arrived  from  Holland.  The  one  at 
the  left  carries  the  banner  of  Amsterdam  at  her 
stern,  and  the  flag  of  the  Dutch  West  India  Com¬ 
pany  at  her  mainmast  head.  The  other  flies  the 
ensign  of  the  States-General  and  the  Company’s 
flag.  A  government  yacht  is  moored  alongside 
the  breakwater  at  the  right,  and  beyond  lie  Hud¬ 
son  River  sloops  and  small  craft. 

When  the  Dutch  first  sent  colonists  to  settle 
New  Amsterdam,  others  were  sent  by  the  West 
India  Company  further  up  the  river  discovered 
and  described  by  Henry  Hudson;  and  these  built 
houses  and  a  fort,  which  they  called  Fort  Orange 
in  honor  of  Maurice,  Prince  of  Orange,  on  the 
site  of  the  future  city  of  Albany. 

Garnsey  makes  Fort  Orange  the  subject  of  a 
second  mural  painting,  showing  the  town,  sur- 


96  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


rounded  by  a  palisade,  strengthened  by  block 
houses,  and  with  gates  opening  on  the  principal 
streets.  At  the  intersection  of  Handlers  Street 
(now  Broadway)  and  Yonkers  (now  State) 
Street  stood  the  Dutch  church,  the  steep  roof  of 
which  appears  above  the  nearest  block  house. 
From  the  church,  Yonkers  Street  mounts  the  hill 
to  the  site  of  the  present  capitol,  where  the  Eng¬ 
lish  built  Fort  Frederick  soon  after  their  final 
occupation.  In  the  foreground  are  shown  the 
sloops  which  carried  the  commerce  and  passengers 
of  the  time.  No  contemporary  picture  of  Fort 
Orange  exists,  so  far  as  is  known,  and  the  artist’s 
painting  is  a  painstaking  “  restoration,”  studied 
from  old  maps  and  records,  showing  also  the 
characteristic  Hudson  River  sloops  of  the  period 
which  carried  New  York’s  commerce  up  and  down 
the  North  River.  Each  of  the  other  panels,  eight 
large  and  two  small  ones,  is  treated  with  the  same 
fidelity  to  place  and  period.  The  colour  scheme  of 
the  paintings  is  warm  and  rich,  making  a  hand¬ 
some  room,  full  of  sunshine  and  vigorous  colour. 

The  Custom  House  occupies  the  whole  of  the 
block  bounded  by  Bowling  Green,  State,  Bridge, 
and  Whitehall  Streets.  From  its  windows  is  an 
extensive  view  of  the  hay,  seen  across  the  Battery. 

This  charming  bit  of  park  seems  oddly  accidental 


THE  OLD  TOWN 


97 


and  pastoral  in  so  mercantile  an  environment, 
having  been  left  pretty  much  as  a  neglected  field, 
with  no  formal  improvements  since  the  day  when 
Governor  Fletcher  thought  it  wise  to  fortify  the 
island  along  the  sea  wall,  in  anticipation  of  a  pos¬ 
sible  coming  of  the  French  fleet,  as  a  move  in  the 
warfare  then  waged  between  France  and  England. 
The  battery  of  guns  set  up  outside  the  fort  gave 
the  locality  its  present  name,  by  which  it  has  been 
known  since  1678. 

The  park  was  a  favourite  promenade  and  play¬ 
ground  during  colonial  days,  when  Bowling  Green 
was  the  centre  of  fashion,  and  shipping  came  up 
almost  to  the  doors  of  the  city’s  aristocracy.  The 
north  side  of  the  Battery  was  then  one  of  the  most 
chic  of  residential  streets,  while  the  fashionable 
quarter  extended  into  Greenwich  Street,  where 
fine  old  houses  may  still  be  found  in  a  state  of 
pathetic  dilapidation.  Old  people  are  still  living 
in  New  York  who  remember  playing  in  Battery 
Park,  when  it  was  the  logical  breathing-space  for 
city  children. 

Of  all  the  fine  residences  which  faced  the  park, 
but  one  remains,  and  that,  situated  at  the  extreme 
point  of  the  mass  of  buildings  which  form  the  end 
of  the  island,  is  designated  as  No.  7  State  Street. 
The  house  may  be  distinguished  at  a  glance  for 


98  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


its  obvious  age,  expressed  by  the  style  of  its  pil¬ 
lared  front,  as  well  as  by  its  peculiar  shape.  It 
stands  at  the  sharp  turn  in  State  Street  where  it 
rounds  the  curve  of  the  island’s  base,  the  house 
being  built  on  the  apex  of  the  angle. 

It  is  known  to  have  been  built  during  the  last 
part  of  the  eighteenth  century,  by  James  Watson, 
who  sold  it,  in  1805,  to  Moses  Rogers,  a  promi¬ 
nent  merchant  and  man  of  affairs  in  those  days, 
and  well  connected  as  connections  went  in  New 
York.  lie  was  an  active  member  of  the  Society 
for  the  Manumission  of  Slaves,  an  officer  of  the 
New  York  Hospital,  treasurer  of  the  City  Dis¬ 
pensary,  a  vestryman  of  Trinity  Church,  and  a 
member  of  the  Society  for  the  Relief  of  Distressed 
Prisoners.  This  latter  society  was  an  important 
one  in  the  early  history  of  the  city;  its  purpose  was 
to  ameliorate  the  unhappy  condition  of  prisoners 
housed  in  the  gaol,  the  demolished  building  known 
to  us  as  the  Hall  of  Records.  The  state,  it  is 
said,  allowed  them  only  bread  and  water  and  they 
depended  largely  for  sustenance  upon  benevolent 
people. 

Until  1830  this  house  remained  in  the  family, 
and  was  the  scene  of  many  notable  entertainments. 
During  the  Civil  War  it  was  taken  by  the  govern¬ 
ment  for  military  uses  and  afterwards  became  the 


THE  OLD  TOWN 


99 


office  of  the  Pilot  Commissioners.  It  is  now 
devoted  to  the  use  of  the  Catholic  Mission  of  Our 
Lady  of  the  Rosary. 

The  elevated  roads  and  subway  have  done  what 
they  can  to  destroy  the  simple  beauty  of  this  bit 
of  green,  but  it  is  still  thoroughly  enjoyed  by  the 
leisure  class  of  the  quarter,  and  commands  a  superb 
view  of  the  harbour  with  all  that  it  contains  of 
animation  and  life.  One  of  the  things  that  absorb 
the  attention  of  loungers  in  the  park  is  the  flash 
of  the  sunset  gun,  followed  by  the  kindling  of  the 
Liberty  torch,  and  the  blink  of  the  revolving  light 
on  Robbins’  Reef,  off  Staten  Island. 

At  the  time  that  the  United  States  declared 
war  against  Great  Britain,  in  1812,  a  number  of 
forts  and  defences  were  built  on  the  islands  in  the 
bay  to  defend  the  approach  by  ocean,  while  others 
were  erected  in  Hell  Gate  to  protect  the  entrance 
by  Long  Island  Sound.  Amongst  others  was 
built  Fort  Clinton,  upon  a  little  island  close  to 
the  Battery,  and  this  we  know  to-day  as  Castle 
Garden.  The  fort  was  built  on  a  mole  and 
connected  with  the  city  by  a  bridge.  The  em¬ 
brasures  for  the  thirty  heavy  guns  may  still  be 
seen. 

It  achieved  its  immortal  history  as  the  portal 
through  which  millions  of  immigrants  entered  the 


100  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


United  States,  but  before  that  time  it  had  been 
a  place  of  public  amusement  and  entertainment. 
Lafayette  was  received  here,  on  his  visit  to  the 
city  in  1824,  by  an  enthusiastic  gathering  of  six 
thousand  persons;  later,  in  1835,  Morse,  the  in¬ 
ventor  of  the  telegraph,  made  a  public  demonstra¬ 
tion  of  the  value  of  his  discovery,  by  means  of  a 
wire  coiled  about  the  interior  of  the  Garden;  and 
here,  in  1850,  Jenny  Lind,  the  Swedish  singer, 
made  her  American  debut  under  the  management 
of  P.  T.  Barnum.  The  tickets  were  sold  by  auc¬ 
tion,  and  so  curious  was  New  York  over  the  whole 
affair,  that  three  thousand  persons  paid  the  admis¬ 
sion  fee  of  25  cents  to  see  the  sale.  The  first  ticket 
brought  $225,  and  one  thousand  tickets  were  sold 
on  the  first  day,  realizing  $10,141.  The  doors 
were  opened  at  five  o'clock,  and  5,000  persons 
attended  the  concert,  of  which  the  gross  receipts 
amounted  to  nearly  $18,000.  Of  Jenny  Lind’s 
half  of  the  receipts  of  the  first  two  concerts  she 
handsomely  devoted  $10,000  to  the  public  chari¬ 
ties  of  New  York. 

Castle  Garden  was  the  immigrant  bureau  until 
1890.  and  six  years  later  was  opened  as  an  aqua¬ 
rium,  so  that  it  has  never  known  a  moment’s 
privacy  in  the  whole  of  its  chequered  career.  As 
one  of  the  fine  aquariums  of  the  world,  it  attracts 


THE  OLD  TOWN 


101 


multitudes  of  people  daily,  by  reason  of  its  superb 
exhibits  of  fish  of  the  most  brilliant  species. 

Besides  Verrazzano,  John  Ericsson  has  been 
appropriately  chosen  as  worthy  of  a  statue  on 
Battery  Park,  in  his  character  of  inventor  of  the 
Monitor ,  which  defeated  the  Confederate  ironclad 
Merrimac,  at  Hampton  Roads,  on  March  9,  1862, 
and  thereby  saved  New  York  from  bombardment. 
The  statue  is  by  J.  Scott  Hartley,  a  well-known 
local  sculptor,  recently  deceased,  and  by  him  pre¬ 
sented  to  the  city,  in  1908.  The  rather  charming 
inscription  reads:  “  The  City  of  New  York  erects 
this  Statue  to  the  Memory  of  a  Citizen  whose 
Genius  Contributed  to  the  Greatness  of  the 
Republic  and  the  Progress  of  the  World.” 


VI 


TRINITY  CHURCH 

Trinity  Church  takes  the  full  value  of  that 
noble  preeminence  which  once  made  it  the  pride 
of  the  town  and  the  feature  of  Broadway,  on  a 
bright  autumn  afternoon.  Especially  on  a  Sat¬ 
urday  or  a  Sunday  afternoon,  when  there  is  no 
business  to  detract  from  the  cold  gloom  of  Wall 
Street,  and  the  loiterer  may  have  lower  Broadway 
to  himself,  does  the  charming  edifice  put  its  case 
most  strongly. 

It  particularly  delights  me  to  make  the  loop 
around  Pearl  Street  from  the  lower  end,  fancying 
myself  on  the  old  river  road,  back  to  Wall,  and 
to  surprise  myself  with  this  admirable  vista  of 
the  church  centred  in  the  western  end  of  that 
thoroughfare,  for  Wall  is  one  of  the  few  streets 
of  prosaic  New  York  that  boasts  a  vista.  Coming 
along  the  shaded  “  cingle,”  crushed  by  the  weight 
of  new  masonry,  it  is  amusing  to  take  one’s  stand 
against  the  heavy  walls  of  the  building  opposite 

102 


TRINITY  CHURCH 


103 


the  Sub-Treasury,  and  absorb  the  unusual  ele¬ 
ments  of  a  paradoxical  picture. 

Over  by  the  corner  of  the  Sub-Treasury  a 
pretty  woman,  bareheaded  and  at  ease,  even  on 
more  tremendous  days,  sits  casually  selling  papers. 
A  knitted  garment  of  the  genus  “  tea-cosey,” 
fitted  tightly  to  the  figure,  protects  her  against 
the  sharpening  air  of  a  waning  season,  and  she 
wears  that  secure  look  of  a  woman  that  has 
become  part  and  parcel  of  men’s  vast  enterprises, 
sure  that  the  friendly  police  and  habitues  of  the 
district  will  see  her  through  any  misadventures 
of  so  thronged  a  thoroughfare ;  and  herself  lending 
a  warm  and  homelike  air  to  the  most  frenzied 
corner  in  New  York. 

Trinity  Church  nestles  in  comfortably  beyond 
the  Bankers’  Trust  Building,  which  frames  the 
view  to  the  right,  its  dark,  Gothic  mass,  black, 
deep,  and  substantial,  never  losing  weight  and 
dignity  in  this  rough  environment.  One  of  the 
sycamores  in  the  churchyard,  leaning  towards  the 
church,  lends  its  delicate  tracery  to  the  poetry  of 
the  picture,  and  at  the  chosen  season  shows  small 
leaves,  intensely  green  and  fresh  in  the  general 
brownness,  with  the  afternoon  sun  shining  through 
them. 

The  gradual  extinction  of  Trinity  by  the  en- 


104  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 

croaching  skyscraper  is  a  theme  that  has  animated 
every  writer  interested  in  the  city’s  sky-line,  since 
the  days  when  the  spire  of  Trinity  Church  domi¬ 
nated  the  profile  view  of  the  island  from  the 
Jersey  side.  Henry  James,  speaking  for  a  whole 
passing  generation  of  New  Yorkers,  of  the  period 
when  people  were  still  “  born  in  New  York,” 
deplores  with  admirable  cynicism  and  much  deli¬ 
cious  imagery,  the  actual  shrunken  presence  of 
that  laudable  architectural  effort.  Rut  things 
have  grown  immensely  in  the  ten  years  that  have 
elapsed  since  Mr.  James  recorded  his  impressions 
of  a  city  revisited.  The  “  jagged  city  ”  is  still 
jagged,  yet  some  of  the  teeth  in  the  colossal  hair- 
comb,  to  which  he  so  wonderfully  compares  her, 
have  been  filled  in;  and  this  filling  in,  while  it  still 
further  eclipses  any  claims  to  visibility  to  which 
Trinity  might  hopelessly  cling,  especially  in  the 
sky-line,  has  brought  about  something  quite  other 
than  was  originally  intended. 

Where  she  formerly  dominated,  she  now  sits 
enshrined;  and  the  beauty  of  that  shrine  is  perhaps 
more  precious,  more  subtle,  because  of  its  very  sur¬ 
prise  and  rarity  in  a  world  of  commerce.  Not  the 
elevated  trains  thundering  past  the  rear  of  the 
fine  old  graveyard;  not  the  throng  of  money¬ 
makers  pressing  ceaselessly  before  the  door  of 


m 


MAIN  PORTAL  TRINITY  CHURCH 
KARL  BITTER,  SCULPTOR  (PAGE  107 ) 


xsbbskp 


TRINITY  CHURCH 


105 


the  edifice;  nor  the  trivial  office  girls,  with  diffi¬ 
culty  restrained  from  eating  lunches  on  the  very 
tombs  of  ancestral  notables,  can  detract  from  the 
dignity  of  the  church  and  its  setting.  Through  all 
it  maintains  its  ecclesiastic  calm  and  beauty.  Bells 
ring  the  hours.  Within  the  gateway  all  is  peace — 
old-world  peace.  The  trees  of  the  garden  are 
wonderful  against  the  sunlit  background  of  the 
Gothic  office  building  that  walls  it  in  on  the  north. 
Like  some  old  cathedral  of  newer  Italy  it  holds 
its  own  with  the  increased  pace  set  by  progress, 
and  opens  its  doors  for  such  fragments  of  atten¬ 
tion  as  a  busy  world  can  spare  for  a  submission 
to  spiritual  influences.  Such  churches  become 
tremendous  factors  in  the  daily  life  of  citizens, 
the  one  ameliorating  circumstance,  perhaps,  in 
the  humdrum  of  business,  to  whose  enormous  gains 
the  passing  throng  is  but  as  so  much  mechanism. 

The  rectors,  wardens,  and  vestry  of  Trinity 
Church  have  influenced  the  nomenclature  of  the 
thoroughfares  hereabout,  not  only  in  such  names 
as  Rector,  Church,  and  Vestry  Streets,  but  in 
Vesey,  Barclay,  and  Beach  Streets,  named  after 
old-time  ministers  of  the  parish.  Rector  Street 
received  its  name  from  the  Reverend  William 
Vesey,  who  once  lived  in  this  street,  and  Vesey 
Street  was  called  for  him.  More  than  a  score  of 


10G  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


thoroughfares  bear  the  names  of  prominent  mem¬ 
bers  of  the  corporation;  among  them  Murray, 
Chambers,  Warren,  Reade,  Jay,  Harrison,  North, 
Moore,  Laight,  Desbrosses,  Yandam,  Watts, 
Charlton,  King,  Hamersley,  Clarkson,  LeRoy, 
Morton,  and  Barrow  Streets. 

The  church  is  the  third  of  the  name  that  has 
stood  on  this  site  since  1097.  The  first  was  burned 
in  the  great  fire  of  1770,  which  destroyed  five  hun¬ 
dred  buildings.  Almost  the  entire  western  part 
of  the  city  was  at  this  time  consumed,  St.  Paul’s 
Chapel  being  the  only  building  of  importance 
saved.  The  second  Trinity  was  condemned  as 
unsafe  and  pulled  down  to  make  way  for  the 
present  edifice,  erected  between  1839  and  1846, 
so  that  the  church,  which  in  modern  New  York 
seems  so  ancient,  has  spanned  but  the  average 
life  of  man — threescore  years  and  ten. 

R.  N.  LTpjohn  was  the  architect  of  Trinity, 
and  his  work  is  considered  a  fine  example  of  the 
simplified  Gothic  style.  The  brown  sandstone  of 
which  it  is  composed  is  characteristic  of  the  city, 
and  was  much  used  for  dwellings  of  about  this 
period  and  later.  The  artistic  features  of  the 
church  came  at  a  much  later  date,  and  were  largely 
the  gift  of  the  Astor  family.  The  bronze  doors 
to  the  tlrree  entrances  were  given  by  William 


TRINITY  CHURCH 


107 


Waldorf  Astor,  in  memory  of  his  father,  John 
Jacob  Astor;  while  the  handsome  altar  and  reredos 
are  memorials  to  William  B.  Astor,  erected  by 
his  sons,  John  Jacob  and  William. 

The  three  pairs  of  bronze  doors  are  by  Karl 
Bitter,  Massey  Rhind,  and  Charles  H.  Niehaus; 
three  foreign-born  sculptors,  identified  for  many 
years  with  the  art  life  of  New  York.  The  Bitter 
doors  are  those  in  the  tower,  opening  upon  Broad¬ 
way,  and  are  generally  closed,  except  during  serv¬ 
ice,  so  that  they  can  be  well  seen  from  without 
and  in  their  entirety.  They  represent  the  sculp¬ 
tor’s  first  work  in  this  country,  to  which  he  had 
come  from  Austria,  his  birthplace,  in  1889,  in  the 
twenty-second  year  of  his  age.  Bitter  had  here 
neither  friends  nor  relatives,  and  he  won  the  com¬ 
petition,  into  which  he  entered  as  an  unknown 
sculptor  during  the  first  year  of  his  stay  in  Amer¬ 
ica,  entirely  on  his  merits. 

The  Bitter  doors  follow  the  general  type  of  the 
Ghiberti  gates  to  the  Baptistry,  in  Florence;  the 
space  being  divided  into  panels,  and  surrounded 
by  small  upright  figures  alternated  with  heads, 
and  reclining  figures  separated  by  emblems.  The 
subjects  of  the  panels  are  biblical.  These  doors 
express  Bitter’s  accomplished  use  of  decorative 
sculpture;  the  modelling  is  charming  in  its  smooth 


108  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


fluency,  and  shows  the  thoroughness  of  the  sculp¬ 
tor’s  fundamental  groundwork.  Of  the  many 
doors  founded  on  the  Ghiberti  tradition  none  ex¬ 
ceed  these  in  graceful  adaptation.  They  gained 
for  Ritter  instant  recognition,  when  they  were 
shown,  and  brought  him  to  the  favourable  notice 
of  Richard  M.  Hunt,  the  most  celebrated  local 
architect  of  his  time;  and  it  was  through  Hunt  that 
Bitter  became  associated  with  the  Columbian 
Exposition,  which  gave  him  his  larger  opportunity 
and  fixed  his  status  with  us  as  sculptor.  For 
Hunt  he  made  the  elaborate  sculptural  decoration 
for  the  Administration  Building,  and  at  the  re¬ 
quest  of  another  influential  architect,  George  B. 
Post,  decorated  the  Liberal  Arts  Building  for  the 
Chicago  Fair. 

The  north  door,  by  Massey  Rhind,  is  also  pan¬ 
elled  with  Bible  subjects;  and  the  south  door  Mr. 
Niehaus  has  treated  with  local  historical  matter. 
Both  are  dated  1892.  The  statues  of  the  four 
evangelists  were  placed  in  the  tower  by  William 
FitzIIugh  Whitehouse  and  his  wife,  in  1901. 

The  interior  is  of  impressive  proportions,  its 
dim,  religious  light  violated,  however,  by  the  lurid 
chancel  windows  of  conventional  design,  contem¬ 
porary  with  the  building.  Rumour  attributes  the 
design  of  the  end  chancel  window  to  Richard 


JOHN  WATTS,  BY  GEORGE  EDWIN  BISSELL 
TRINITY  CHURCHYARD  (PAGE  II3) 


BUST  OF  ALEXANDER  HAMILTON,  SIGNED 
“j.  JARDELLA,  FECIT,  FOR  J.  TRAQUAIR, 
PHILADELPHIA,”  OVER  MEMORIAL  TABLET, 
SEXTON’S  OFFICE,  TRINITY  CHURCH  (p.lio) 


RECUMBENT  STATUE  OF  MORGAN  DIX,  BY  ISIDORE  KONTI 
ALL  SAINTS’  CHAPEL,  TRINITY  CHURCH  (PAGE  IO9) 


TRINITY  CHURCH 


109 


Upjohn,  the  architect,  and  the  story  persists  that 
it  was  executed  by  an  Englishman,  named  Sharp, 
and  baked  on  the  spot,  in  a  shop  erected  behind 
the  chancel.  There  is  a  legend,  too,  that  the  pul¬ 
pit  is  made  from  wood  taken  from  the  frigate 
Constitution. 

All  Saints’  Chapel,  designed  by  Thomas  Nash, 
architect,  was  added  to  the  church  in  1912,  by  the 
vestry,  as  a  memorial  to  Morgan  Dix,  for  forty- 
six  years  rector  of  the  parish.  In  itself  extremely 
sympathetic,  harmonious,  and  charming,  it  con¬ 
tains  the  recumbent  figure,  portrait  of  the  rector 
in  death,  by  Isidore  Konti,  sculptor.  This  figure, 
in  marble,  occupies  a  little  niche  on  the  north  wall 
of  the  chapel,  and  follows  very  closely  the  tradi¬ 
tion  of  such  sculptured  tombs  as  preserved  in  the 
Gothic  cathedrals  of  Europe.  The  memorial  is 
beautifully  modelled  and  fits  the  general  scheme 
of  its  setting  with  rare  good  taste. 

The  rather  perfunctory  effigy  of  Bishop  Onder- 
donck,  between  the  chapel  and  the  passageway 
north  of  the  chancel,  is  much  earlier.  Beyond  are 
some  interesting  stones,  wreckage  from  the  old 
buildings.  In  the  sacristy  are  many  fine  memo¬ 
rials  to  departed  parishioners,  of  which  a  handsome 
one,  in  the  reserved  style  of  the  period,  was  erected 
to  the  memory  of  Alexander  Hamilton  by  the  New 


110  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


York  State  Society  of  Cincinnati.  It  bears  a  noble 
inscription,  beautifully  cut  and  embellished,  and  is 
surmounted  by  a  bust  of  the  statesman. 

In  the  vestry,  beyond,  is  the  large  marble  relief 
over  the  tomb  of  John  Henry  Hobart,  rector  of 
Trinity  and  bishop  of  the  State  of  New  York, 
interesting  as  the  work  of  Thomas  Ball,  an  early 
American  sculptor,  whose  work,  generally  of  a 
dignified  and  monumental  type,  is  best  exempli¬ 
fied  in  the  equestrian  statue  of  Washington,  in  the 
Boston  Public  Gardens. 

On  high  days  and  holidays  the  old  Queen  Anne 
communion  service  is  brought  to  light, — seven 
massive  pieces  of  silver  presented  by  the  Queen  to 
the  church  over  two  hundred  years  ago,  stamped 
with  the  royal  arms  and  hall-marked  1700.  Still 
older  is  a  baptismal  bason,  of  the  time  of  William 
and  Mary,  bearing  the  1684  hall-mark  and  the 
royal  arms.  This  is  only  part  of  the  church’s 
treasure  which  includes  chalices  and  flacons  of 
royal  gift  and  a  chalice  studded  with  tiie  jewels 
of  Augusta  McVickar  Egleston,  to  whose  memory 
and  that  of  her  husband  a  tablet  is  erected  in  the 
sexton’s  office. 

If  the  church  is  comparatively  modern,  the 
graveyard  goes  back  to  Queen  Anne’s  day,  and 
was  granted  by  the  city  for  a  burial  ground  in 


TRINITY  CHURCH 


111 


1703.  Fees  for  burial  were  limited  to  3s.  6d. 
for  adults,  and  Is.  6d.  for  children  under  twelve 
years.  The  oldest  graves,  however,  antedate  the 
erection  of  the  first  church  edifice,  and  existed 
within  the  enclosure  before  the  official  grant. 
These  are  those  of  two  children,  Richard  and 
Anne  Churcher:  quaint  headstones  record  their 
deaths,  in  1681  and  1691.  When  these  graves 
were  dug,  New  York  was  a  little  city  of  barely 
three  thousand  souls,  recently  come  into  possession 
of  the  English.  Members  of  the  established  church 
held  service  in  a  little  chapel  in  the  fort,  to  which 
Queen  Anne  had  presented  the  silver  communion 
set. 

To  browse  amongst  the  tombstones  of  this  sa¬ 
cred  little  garden  spot  is  to  revive  many  memories 
of  colonial  history.  A  moss-covered  slab  on  the 
north  side,  worn  by  the  weather,  covers  the  grave 
of  Benjamin  Faneuil,  the  father  of  Peter  Faneuil, 
who  built  Faneuil  Hall,  Boston.  This  family  was 
driven  out  of  France  by  the  revocation  of  the 
Edict  of  Nantes,  under  which  Protestants  were 
tolerated  in  that  kingdom.  Benjamin  Faneuil 
came  to  this  country  with  a  large  colony  of  Hu¬ 
guenots,  and  numbers  of  these  refugees  and  their 
descendants  lie  buried  here.  The  first  burial  vault 
at  the  south  entrance  is  that  of  “  D.  Contant,”  a 


112  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


victim  of  the  edict  which  enriched  America  with 
the  best  blood  of  France.  This  persecution 
brought  also  the  Bayards,  Jays,  Boudinots,  and 
Tillons,  and  peopled  South  Carolina  with  such 
revolutionary  leaders  as  Marion  and  Laurens;  it 
led  also  to  the  erection  of  Bowdoin  College,  where 
Longfellow  and  Hawthorne  studied,  and  the 
Faneuil  Hall. 

The  vault  of  the  Earl  of  Stirling  lies  on  the 
western  slope,  close  by  the  fence.  This  was  built 
in  1738,  and  is  the  ancestral  vault  of  the  Living¬ 
stons,  Jays,  Stuyvesants,  and  Rutherfords,  and 
contains  the  remains  of  James  Alexander  and  his 
descendants  by  his  son,  William,  Earl  of  Stirling. 
The  third  Earl  of  Stirling  figured  honourably  in 
the  Revolutionary  War,  while  his  two  daughters, 
Lady  Mary  Watts  and  Lady  Kitty  Duer,  were 
prominent  at  the  court  of  Washington. 

There  is  a  charming  monument  to  Alexander 
Hamilton,  erected  by  the  Corporation  of  Trinity 
Church  in  testimony  of  their  respect  for  this  “  pa¬ 
triot  of  incorruptible  integrity,  the  soldier  of  ap¬ 
proved  valour,  the  statesman  of  consummate  wis¬ 
dom,  whose  talents  and  virtues  will  be  admired 
by  grateful  posterity  long  after  this  marble  shall 
have  mouldered  into  dust.”  At  the  foot  of  the 
monument  a  slab  records  the  interment  of  “  Eliza, 


TRINITY  CHURCH 


113 


daughter  of  Philip  Schuyler,”  Hamilton’s  widow, 
who  died  at  Washington  and  is  buried  here.  Next 
to  Hamilton  is  a  memorial  to  Robert  Fulton,  with 
a  portrait  medallion  by  Weinert;  and  nearby  Bis- 
sell’s  imposing  portrait  statue  of  John  Watts,  the 
last  royal  recorder  of  the  City  of  New  York, 
erected  by  his  grandson,  John  Watts  de  Peyster, 
the  same  wrho  presented  the  statue  of  Abraham  de 
Peyster  to  the  city.  John  Watts,  a  contemporary 
record  tells  us,  married  his  cousin,  Jane  de  Lancey, 
and  “  they  were  considered  the  handsomest  couple 
of  their  day.”  Here  too  lies  Sir  Henry  Moore, 
the  only  native  American  ever  appointed  governor 
of  the  province.  He  is  interred  in  the  chancel. 
Five  generations  of  Bleekers  sleep  in  the  vault  of 
Anthony  Lispenard  Bleeker,  a  slab  marking  the 
spot  at  the  southwest  corner  of  the  building.  The 
last  body  was  interred  in  this  vault  in  1884. 

As  late  as  1729  there  was  no  street  west  of 
Broadway,  and  the  lots  on  the  west  side  of  that 
thoroughfare  descended  to  the  beach.  In  the  ele¬ 
vation  of  the  churchyard  above  Trinity  Place,  a 
trace  of  the  original  bluffs  along  the  North  River 
may  be  recognized. 

Trinity  Church  from  its  income  supports  the 
parent  church  and  eight  chapels,  contributes  reg¬ 
ularly  to  twenty-four  congregations,  maintains 


114  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


schools,  a  dispensary,  a  hospital,  and  a  long  list  of 
charities.  Its  tenements,  its  ground  rents,  and  in¬ 
vestments  make  it  the  richest  church  society  in 
America.  Most  of  the  so-called  “  Church  Farm,” 
granted  by  Queen  Anne,  is  still  Trinity  property, 
except  the  portions  ceded  to  the  city,  by  the  cor¬ 
poration,  for  streets,  and  for  St.  John’s  Park. 

Trinity  was  burned  to  the  ground  the  night  of 
the  British  occupancy  of  New  York;  but  St. 
Paul’s,  the  first  of  Trinity’s  chapels,  not  only 
escaped  destruction  from  the  flames  which  scorched 
it,  but  was  kept  open  for  services  without  inter¬ 
ruption,  and  patriot  and  tory  preached  from  its 
pulpits  according  to  the  fortunes  of  war.  It  was 
here,  and  not  in  the  parent  church,  that  Washing¬ 
ton  worshipped  as  Commander-in-Chief,  when  he 
occupied  the  city  before  the  Battle  of  Long  Island; 
while  Lord  Howe,  the  British  commander,  Sir 
Guy  Carleton,  Major  Andre,  Lord  Cornwallis, 
and  the  midshipman,  later  William  IV  of  England, 
and  other  royalist  soldiers  were  regular  attendants. 

After  the  war  the  governor  of  the  state  had  his 
pew  here  and  the  legislature  and  common  council 
had  seats  allotted  to  them;  while  Washington’s 
old  square  pew,  reserved  for  him  when  New  York 
became  the  capital  of  the  federal  government,  is 
kept  untouched.  Washington  sat  under  the  na- 


TRINITY  CHURCH 


115 


tional  arms  on  the  left-hand  aisle,  and  on  the  op¬ 
posite  side  of  the  church,  under  the  arms  of  the 
State  of  New  York,  Governor  George  Clinton  had 
his  sittings. 

St.  Paul’s  is  the  only  church  edifice  in  the  city 
that  has  been  preserved  from  the  pre-Revolution- 
ary  period.  When  its  corner-stone  was  laid,  on 
May  14,  1764,  at  what  is  now  the  corner  of  Broad¬ 
way  and  Fulton  Street,  that  district  was  a  grow¬ 
ing  wheat  field,  and  members  of  Trinity  parish 
questioned  the  wisdom  of  establishing  a  chapel  “  so 
far  out  of  town.”  Its  “  groves  and  orchards  ” 
stretched  down  to  the  North  River,  then  at  Green¬ 
wich  Street.  The  architect,  McBean,  was  influ¬ 
enced  by  the  Sir  Christopher  Wren  type,  then 
greatly  in  vogue  in  London,  where  he  had  stud¬ 
ied,  and  the  interior  closely  follows  that  of  St. 
Martin’s-in-the-Fields,  in  Trafalgar  Square. 

The  original  pulpit  is  fine  in  character  and  deco¬ 
ration;  its  canopy  is  surmounted  by  the  crest  of 
the  Prince  of  Wales — a  crown  and  three  ostrich 
plumes — the  only  emblems  of  royalty  that  escaped 
destruction  at  the  hands  of  the  patriots,  when  they 
regained  possession  of  the  city,  in  1783.  The 
chancel  rail  and  some  of  the  chairs,  as  well  as 
much  of  the  woodwork,  is  of  this  same  period,  and 
very  charming  and  simple;  one  might  easily  fancy 


110  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


one’s  self  in  some  parish  church  of  rural  England. 
The  chancel  and  walls  bear  many  beautifully  de¬ 
signed  tablets  of  the  Revolutionary  period  and 
later,  erected  to  the  memory  of  old  families  of  the 
congregation. 

While  this  church  was  still  one  of  the  most  im¬ 
portant  in  town,  in  about  the  year  1818,  John  and 
William  Frazee  opened  their  marble  shop  in 
Greenwich  Street,  and  many  of  the  handsome, 
carved  tablets  and  tombstones  of  St.  Paul’s  and 
other  churches  may  be  traced  to  their  skill.  The 
Church  of  the  Ascension  contains  one  in  perfect 
taste,  in  black  and  white  marble,  to  the  memory 
of  Jacobi  Wallis  Eastburn;  signed  “  W.  and  J. 
Frazee.”  But  St.  Paul’s  owns  a  real  curiosity  in 
what  Dunlap*  describes  as  the  “  first  marble  por¬ 
trait  from  a  native  hand — a  bust  of  John  Wells, 
Esq.,  a  prominent  lawyer  in  New  York,  chiselled 
after  death  from  profiles.  ...”  This  was  John 
Frazee’s  first  bust,  made  in  1824  or  1825,  without 
instruction.  Considering  the  disadvantages  of 
working  from  mere  silhouettes,  without  experience, 
the  success  of  the  bust  is  remarkable.  For  it 
and  its  odd  accompaniment  of  incidental  objects 
with  which  the  base  is  loaded,  as  well  as  the  hand- 

*  “  History  of  the  Arts  of  Design.”  William  Dunlap.  New 
York.  1934. 


WILSON  MEMORIAL  CROSS.  THOMAS  NASH,  ARCHITECT 
TRINITY  CHURCHYARD  (PAGE  III) 


REVERSE  OF 

WILSON  MEMORIAL  CROSS 
(PAGE  III) 


TRINITY  CHURCH 


117 


some  lettering,  Frazee  received  $1,000.  Recog¬ 
nized  as  a  sculptor  of  parts  he  was  later  commis¬ 
sioned,  by  congress,  to  make  portraits  of  John  Jay 
and  other  prominent  characters.  Dunlap  further 
records: — “  It  grieves  me  that  I  cannot  relate  the 
anecdotes  of  Frazee  respecting  the  sittings  of 
these  eminent  men.  Webster,  at  the  request  of 
the  sculptor,  delivered  a  congressional  speech  while 
Frazee  modeled.” 

To  realize  the  true  distinction  of  St.  Paul’s,  one 
should  take  the  trouble  to  enter  the  yard,  not  from 
Broadway,  for  that  is  the  back  way,  but  from 
either  Fulton  or  Vesey  Streets,  and  walk  back  to 
the  end  of  the  garden,  before  turning  to  look  at 
the  edifice.  Thus  only  can  one  do  justice  to  its 
charming  architecture,  and  appreciate  the  inten¬ 
tion  of  the  designer.  An  intelligent  custodian  has 
ranged  benches  across  the  end  of  the  churchyard 
where  one  may  take  in  the  picture  at  leisure.  The 
church,  with  its  portico  abutting  suddenly  on 
Broadway,  and  its  spire,  apparently  on  the  wrong 
end,  seems  abrupt  and  awkward  until  we  know 
that  it  was  built  to  face  the  river,  and  that  it  stood 
back  from  a  fine  sloping  lawn,  extending  to  the 
water’s  edge.  In  the  exigencies  of  city  develop¬ 
ment  the  rear  of  St.  Paul’s  has  become  virtually 
its  front,  and  one  is  without  some  precaution, 


118  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


first  impressed  by  the  statue  of  St.  Paul  in  the 
pediment,  the  monument  to  Major-General  Rich¬ 
ard  Montgomery  against  the  chancel  window,  and 
the  two  shafts  to  the  memory  of  Irish  patriots 
of  distinction.  The  monument  to  General  Mont¬ 
gomery  was  erected  by  congress,  who  entrusted 
Franklin  with  its  purchase,  and  it  was  he  who 
secured  the  services  of  Caffieri,  a  sculptor,  in 
Paris,  whose  name  is  signed  to  the  work. 
Montgomery  commanded  the  expedition  against 
Canada,  in  1775,  and  led  the  assault  upon  Quebec, 
where  he  met  his  death.  lie  was  given  a  soldier’s 
burial  by  the  English  and  nearly  fifty  years  later 
Canada  surrendered  his  remains  to  the  United 
States. 

Trinity  Church  was  not  rebuilt  until  1700,  but 
lay  in  black  ruins  during  the  British  occupation, 
but  the  yard  was  in  use,  and  figured  as  the  public 
burying  ground  of  Revolutionary  times.  There, 
most  of  the  private  soldiers,  sailors,  prisoners  of 
war,  strangers,  and  the  poor  were  interred.  The 
Martyrs’  Monument  stands  in  memory  of  the 
tragic  case  of  the  prisoners  who  died  by  thousands 
from  cruelty  and  starvation,  we  are  told,  and  were 
cast  into  trenches  in  this  cemetery. 

St.  Paul's,  on  the  other  hand,  was  the  military 
chapel  of  the  British  commander,  and  its  grounds 


TRINITY  CHURCH 


119 


were  reserved  for  the  interment  of  English  offi¬ 
cers  as  well  as  citizens  of  wealth  and  standing. 
Many  tombstones  antedate  the  Revolution,  but 
the  parish  records,  prior  to  1777,  kept  at  Trinity, 
were  all  destroyed  in  the  great  fire,  so  that  the 
tombstones  are  the  only  source  of  information. 
These  bear  mute  testimony  to  the  transitional  state 
of  this  parish  in  early  days,  for  friends  and  foes  lie 
side  by  side.  There  are  memorials  to  the  founders 
of  New  York  families — Ogden,  Somerindyke, 
Nesbitt,  Rhinelander,  Thorne,  Cornell,  Van  Am- 
ridge,  Gunning,  Bogert,  Onderdonck,  Treadwell, 
Cutler,  Waldo,  and  others.  Christopher  Collis, 
who  built  New  York’s  first  waterworks  and  the 
Erie  Canal,  is  buried  here.  He  used  steam  to 
pump  water  from  Collect  Pond  into  his  reservoir 
on  Broadway,  and,  it  is  said,  was  the  first  to  sug¬ 
gest  that  the  same  force  might  be  applied  to  ferry¬ 
boats  with  safety  and  economy. 

St.  Paul’s  once  held  a  large  and  fashionable 
congregation,  drawn  from  the  surrounding  streets 
when  Park  Place  was  a  residential  centre.  The 
first  substantial  sidewalks  were  laid  on  the  west 
side  of  Broadway,  between  Vesey  and  Murray 
Streets,  about  1787.  New  York  was  far  behind 
Philadelphia  in  this  respect,  and  Franklin  is 
quoted  as  remarking  that  a  “New  Yorker  could 


120  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


be  known  by  his  gait  in  shuffling  over  a  fine  pave¬ 
ment  like  a  parrot  upon  a  mahogany  table.” 

The  old  Astor  House,  built  on  the  Astor  estate, 
just  north  of  St.  Paul’s,  about  1836,  and  now  re¬ 
placed  by  an  office  building  which  retains  the 
name,  was  a  famous  hotel  for  more  than  fifty 
years,  and  its  register  would  show  the  signatures 
of  many  noted  men,  for  “  every  one  ”  used  to  stop 
there.  Washington  Irving  lived  once  at  No.  16 
Broadway  with  his  friend,  Henry  Brevoort,  at  the 
house  of  a  Mrs.  Ryckman.  This  site  is  now  cov¬ 
ered  by  the  Seaboard  National  Bank,  facing  Bowl¬ 
ing  Green,  and  inside  the  entrance  is  a  fine  clock 
set  in  a  large  sculptured  panel  by  Karl  Bitter. 

A  tablet  at  No.  113  Broadway  marks  the  site 
of  the  former  residence  of  Governor  James  de 
Lancey,  the  son  of  Etienne  de  Lancey,  the 
builder  of  Fraunce’s  Tavern.  Washington’s  in¬ 
augural  ball  was  held  in  this  house,  and  Thames 
Street  becomes  interesting,  and  its  narrowness  ac¬ 
counted  for,  when  we  recognize  it  as  the  carriage 
drive  from  the  de  Lancey  house  to  the  stables. 

What  the  gravestones  and  monuments  of  Trin¬ 
ity  and  St.  Paul’s  have  not  told  of  the  public 
men  of  old  New  York  the  portrait  gallery  of  the 
Chamber  of  Commerce  will  reveal,  bringing  the 
list  down  to  date.  This  fine  collection  of  portraits 


ALL  SAINTS’  CHAPEL  THROUGH  THE  NORTH  PORCH  OF  TRINITY  CHURCH 
THOMAS  NASH,  ARCHITECT  (PAGE  109) 


TRINITY  CHURCH 


121 


of  New  York  merchants,  numbering  now  over  two 
hundred  canvases,  is  housed  in  that  sumptuous 
French  Renaissance  building,  crowded  into  nar¬ 
row  Liberty  Street,  east  of  Broadway,  the  design 
of  James  B.  Baker. 

The  florid  front  and  one  open  side,  loaded  with 
heavy  ornament,  suggest  a  condensation  of  the 
architectual  features  of  the  modern  part  of  the 
Louvre — massive  forms  applied  with  richness  to 
the  vast  extent  of  the  French  palace,  set  within  a 
large  formal  garden  designed  to  enhance  its  beauty 
and  impressiveness;  but  absurdly  disproportionate 
to  the  possibilities  of  a  small  New  York  lot,  hedged 
in  by  competitive  stone  structures  in  the  narrowest 
of  thoroughfares.  By  flattening  one’s  self  against 
the  opposite  houses  and  throwing  the  head  back 
at  a  dangerous  angle,  one  gets  an  impression  of  a 
busy  fa9ade  topped  by  a  low  Mansard  roof,  worn 
smugly,  like  a  flat-crowned  derby  on  a  dressy  fat 
man. 

Engaged,  fluted  columns  support  the  attic  story, 
and  between  these  columns  are  groups  of  statuary 
by  Philip  Martiny  and  Daniel  Chester  French. 
The  central  figures  of  these  groups,  Alexander 
Hamilton,  John  Jay,  and  De  Witt  Clinton,  repre¬ 
sentatives  of  another  time,  seem  to  feel  their  posi¬ 
tion  keenly,  and  to  seek  escape  from  a  world  of 


122  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


frenzied  finance,  whose  outward  and  visible  signs 
are  beyond  their  endurance  as  modest  colonials. 
Even  less  do  the  figures  of  Mercury  and  his  com¬ 
panion  by  Karl  Bitter  seem  to  “  belong  ”  to  the 
pediment  which  surmounts  the  ineffective  entrance, 
their  feet  dangling  insecurely  above  the  little  door¬ 
way  at  the  southwest  corner  of  the  building.  This 
entrance  leads  to  a  great  stairway  up  which  the 
members  pass  grandly  once  a  month  to  meetings 
held  in  the  Chamber,  a  large  room  on  the  second 
floor,  possibly  inspired  by  the  Galerie  d’Apollon 
of  the  Louvre,  but  lacking  the  elegant  proportion 
of  that  famous  apartment.  This  room  contains 
the  greater  part  of  the  portrait  collection. 

The  Chamber  of  Commerce  was  organized  by 
twenty-four  merchants  of  New  York,  in  1768,  and 
incorporated  by  George  III  two  years  later, 
through  the  offices  of  Lieutenant-Governor  Cad- 
wallader  Colden,  whose  excellent  portrait,  a  full- 
length  presentment  by  Matthew  Pratt,  painted  for 
the  Chamber,  in  1772,  was  the  nucleus  of  the  pres¬ 
ent  collection.  In  1792  a  companion  portrait  of 
Alexander  Hamilton,  then  Secretary  of  the  Treas¬ 
ury  of  the  United  States,  also  full-length  and  life- 
size,  was  painted  by  John  Trumbull  for  the  mer¬ 
chants  of  New  York,  admirers  of  that  great  states¬ 
man,  and  by  them  presented  to  the  Chamber  of 


TRINITY  CHURCH 


123 


Commerce.  These  two  portraits,  the  treasures  of 
the  collection,  have  passed  through  many  vicissi¬ 
tudes  during  the  years  that  preceded  the  erection 
of  a  permanent  building  for  the  organization.  The 
gallery  possesses  an  unusually  fine  Stuart  portrait 
of  Washington;  two  portraits  of  De  Witt  Clinton, 
one  by  Trumbull  and  the  other  a  very  fine  Inman; 
several  quaintly  interesting  portraits  by  Asher  B. 
Durand;  a  Charles  Willson  Peale;  and  a  Rem¬ 
brandt  Peale  of  Robert  Ainslee.  Daniel  Hunting- 
ton  contributed  largely  to  the  collection,  making 
several  original  portraits  as  well  as  many  copies 
of  older  existing  portraits,  done  to  fill  in  gaps  in 
the  series  of  important  members. 

But  it  is  as  a  gallery  of  New  York’s  money¬ 
makers  that  the  collection  holds  one,  and  the 
descendants  of  the  makers  of  New  York  have 
been  interested  to  supply  ancestral  portraits,  so 
that  in  a  number  of  cases  one  may  compare  the 
first,  second,  and  third  generations  of  local  finan¬ 
ciers  and  study  the  different  types  produced  by 
this  absorbing  gamble  for  the  city’s  wealth.  One 
interesting  reflection  comes  to  mind.  There  are 
great  portraits  of  great  men — portraits  of  Ham¬ 
ilton,  Washington,  Clinton,  Colden,  and  others 
that  would  live  on  their  merits  as  paintings,  with¬ 
out  regard  to  the  sitter’s  personality;  and  there 


124  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


are  portraits  of  rich  men  that  have  no  interest 
other  than  the  personality  of  the  sitter.  The  first 
John  Jacob  Astor  was  an  exception  to  a  very 
general  rule  that  men  of  wealth  have  not  been 
painted  by  great  artists.  He  is  represented  in 
the  Chamber  by  a  copy  of  an  interesting  portrait 
by  Gilbert  Stuart. 

Amongst  other  souvenirs  preserved  by  the 
organization  are  two  handsome  silver  tureens  given 
by  the  merchants  of  Pearl  Street  to  De  Witt 
Clinton,  and  a  Severes  vase  presented  by  the 
Republic  of  France  to  the  Chamber  of  Commerce, 
in  recognition  of  the  part  taken  by  the  Chamber 
in  the  reception  and  entertainment  of  the  French 
delegates  to  the  inauguration  of  the  Statue  of 
Liberty. 


VII 


THE  CITY  HALL 

With  the  growth  of  the  city  under  English 
occupation,  Bowling  Green  gave  way  to  that 
larger  open  spot,  now  City  Hall  Park,  as  more 
favourably  situated  for  public  purposes.  This 
locality  was  included  in  the  common  lands  vested 
in  the  city  under  the  terms  of  the  Dongan  Charter, 
in  1686.  It  was  first  known  as  the  Vlacte.,  or  flat, 
later  as  the  Common,  and  often  was  designated 
simply  as  the  “  Fields.”  During  the  trials  and 
vicissitudes  of  the  people  under  the  English  gov¬ 
ernors,  and  throughout  all  the  excitement  that  pre¬ 
ceded  the  actual  outbreak  of  the  Revolution,  the 
Fields  was  the  logical  meeting-place  of  the  popu¬ 
lace  for  weal  or  for  woe. 

Here,  early  in  the  morning  of  November  1,  1765, 
was  held  the  first  public  demonstration  opposing 
the  hated  Stamp  Act;  and  it  was  here  that  the 
people  gathered  again  during  the  stormy  month 
preceding  its  repeal.  Meanwhile  James  de  Lan- 
cey’s  house  on  Broadway,  next  to  Trinity  Church, 

125 


120  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


had  become  the  famous  Burns’  Coffee  House, 
where  the  merchants  of  the  city  met  and  signed 
an  agreement  to  buy  no  goods  from  England,  so 
long  as  the  English  king  compelled  them  to  use 
stamps.  The  exaltation  following  the  accomplish¬ 
ment  of  this  drastic  aetion  carried  the  patriots 
through  a  quiet  day,  when  shops  were  closed  and 
business  suspended,  gained  momentum  at  night¬ 
fall,  and  led  to  the  burning  of  Lieutenant-Gover¬ 
nor  Cadwallader  Colden  in  effigy,  in  his  own  coach 
of  state,  on  Bowling  Green;  while  Vauxhall,  the 
residence  of  Major  James  of  the  British  Army, 
was  ravaged,  and  its  contents  made  into  a  bonfire 
around  which  the  mob  howled  and  danced,  because 
of  this  gentleman’s  unfortunate  remark  that  the 
stamps  ought  to  be  crammed  down  the  throats  of 
the  people  with  the  point  of  a  sword. 

For  the  repeal  of  the  Stamp  Act  the  gratitude 
of  the  community  went  to  its  champion,  William 
Pitt,  Earl  of  Chatham,  to  whose  memory  the  citi¬ 
zens  erected  the  marble  statue  at  the  site  now 
marked  by  the  intersection  of  Wall  and  William 
Streets.  Though  this  was  torn  down  and  muti¬ 
lated,  as  already  described,  a  street  was  named 
for  Pitt,  and  Chatham  Square  still  bears  witness 
that  the  city  fathers  desired  to  perpetuate  his 
memory.  The  street  called  Chatham  was  that  part 


THE  WALL  VIEW,  CITY  HALL.  FROM  A  PRINT  OWNED  BY  THE 
MUNICIPAL  ART  SOCIETY  OF  NEW  YORK  (PAGE  I32) 


THE  CITY  HALL 


127 


of  Park  Row  which  extends  beyond  City  Hall 
Park  and  connects  with  Chatham  Square.  His¬ 
torians  have  deplored  the  stupidity  of  the  change 
of  name,  not  only  because  it  is  unmindful  of 
Pitt’s  immense  service  in  our  colonial  history,  but 
because  it  deprives  Park  Row  of  its  exclusively 
descriptive  significance,  as  a  street  extending  along 
the  side  of  a  park. 

There  is  a  story  of  a  man  who  bought  himself 
a  new  hat  in  honour  of  his  wife’s  birthday.  King 
George  III  must  have  felt  something  of  the  same 
complexity  of  emotions  as  did  this  wife,  when  the 
Sons  of  Liberty  erected  a  Liberty  Pole  on  the 
Common  in  New  York,  to  celebrate  his  birthday, 
after  the  repeal  of  the  Stamp  Act.  However,  he 
turned  the  tables  on  them  by  sending  a  statue  of 
himself  to  immortalize  the  occasion — the  same  that 
was  erected  in  Bowling  Green. 

The  Liberty  Pole  was  a  bone  of  contention 
between  the  British  soldiers  and  the  Sons  of 
Liberty  until  torn  down  and  chopped  to  pieces 
by  the  former,  one  night  in  January,  1770,  thus 
precipitating  the  Battle  of  Golden  Hill,  the  first 
battle  of  the  Revolution.  The  battlefield  has  been 
identified  as  an  old  ill-conditioned  courtyard  back 
of  the  Golden  Hill  Inn,  but  two  minutes’  walk  east 
from  St.  Paul’s  in  Broadway.  The  whole  of 


128  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Golden  Hill  may  be  circled  by  following  Maiden 
Lane  from  Broadway  to  Pearl  Street;  Pearl 
Street  to  Fulton  Street;  Fulton  Street  back  to 
Broadway;  and  thence  to  Maiden  Lane.  This 
exercise  is  recommended  only  to  persons  whose 
imagination  is  hardy  enough  to  persist  in  the  face 
of  most  blighting  facts.  Antiquarians  have  dealt 
lovingly  with  it,  and  it  seems  almost  a  pity  to 
destroy  illusions,  acquired  during  cosey  evening 
readings  of  the  most  enthusiastic  writers  on  the 
subject  of  old  New  York,  whereby  Golden  Hill 
may  be  reconstructed  in  all  its  pristine  quaintness. 
Gold  Street,  a  few  feet  east  of  the  battle  ground, 
commemorates  the  name;  and  where  it  intersects 
Platt  Street  stands  the  famous  .Tack  Knife  house, 
once  a  square  tavern,  through  which  was  ruthlessly 
cut  Platt  Street,  leaving  this  curious  remnant  of 
architecture,  shaped  like  a  giant  knife-blade,  and  of 
which  one  end  is  so  narrow  that  the  rooms  branch 
from  the  stairway  like  shelves. 

Maiden  Lane  winds  just  as  it  did  around  the 
base  of  Golden  Hill  when  it  was  a  tiny  stream 
between  steep  green  banks.  Where  it  emptied 
into  the  river,  at  Pearl  Street,  stood  a  blacksmith 
shop  which  gave  the  name,  Smit’s  V’lci,  or  Smith's 
Valley,  to  the  locality.  This  was  the  starting-point 
of  a  little  settlement,  and  the  old  “  Fly  Market,” 


THE  CITY  HALL 


129 


a  corruption,  of  course,  of  the  original  Dutch 
name,  stood  here.  In  early  days  the  washing 
was  done  in  the  river,  and  the  story  goes  that  this 
pathway  was  called  Maiden  Lane,  from  the  young 
laundresses  who  followed  it  in  pursuit  of  their 
picturesque  calling. 

An  old  building,  made  of  tiny  bricks  brought 
over  from  Holland,  standing,  for  the  moment, 
the  last  in  a  line  of  general  demolition  in  William 
Street,  north  of  John  Street,  and  considerably 
over  one  hundred  years  old,  was  the  Golden  Hill 
Inn,  which  is  still  doing  business  around  the  corner 
on  John  Street.  Half  a  dozen  doors  from  Broad¬ 
way,  on  John  Street,  stood  the  John  Street  Thea¬ 
tre,  called  the  Theatre  Royal  by  the  British  offi¬ 
cers  who  held  the  city  at  the  beginning  of  1777, 
and  gave  entertainments  in  this  house.  Washing¬ 
ton  attended  it  during  the  first  year  of  his  presi¬ 
dency,  when  he  lived  in  the  Franklin  Square 
house,  and  there  is  record  of  his  having  seen  a 
performance  of  “  The  School  for  Scandal,”  fol¬ 
lowed  by  a  comic  opera,  in  this  theatre  in  May, 
1789,  a  few  days  after  his  inauguration.  John 
Henry  played  Sir  Peter  Teazle,  of  which  he  was 
the  original  in  this  country,  and  the  leading  lady 
was  Mrs.  Morris.  This  actress  was  tall  and  hand¬ 
some,  and  so  chary  of  being  seen  by  daylight  that 


130  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


“  she  had  a  gate  made  from  her  lodgings  in  Maiden 
Lane  to  enable  her  to  run  across  John  Street  and 
into  the  theatre,  without  walking  around  through 
Broadway  and  exposing  herself  to  the  gaze  of 
the  beaux.” 

Washington’s  visits  to  the  theatre  were  always 
very  ceremonious.  His  box  was  “  elegantly  fitted 
up  and  bore  the  arms  of  the  United  States.”  At 
the  entrance  soldiers  wrere  posted  and  others  were 
generally  placed  in  the  gallery.  “  Mr.  Wignell,  in 
a  full  dress  of  black,  with  hair  elaborately  pow¬ 
dered,  and  holding  two  wax  candles  in  silver 
candlesticks,  received  the  President  and  conducted 
him  and  his  party  to  their  seats.” 

The  first  Nassau  Street  Theatre  was  on  the 
east  side  of  the  thoroughfare  from  which  it  took 
its  name,  between  John  Street  and  Maiden  Lane. 
Kean  and  Murray  appeared  here  in  March,  1750. 
The  room  in  which  performances  were  given  T. 
Allston  Brown,  in  his  “  History  of  the  New  York 
Stage,”  describes  as  in  a  wooden  building,  belong¬ 
ing  to  the  estate  of  Rip  Van  Dam.  This  was  a 
two-storied  house  with  high  gables.  The  stage 
was  raised  five  feet  from  the  floor,  and  scenes, 
curtains,  and  wings  were  all  carried  by  the  man¬ 
agers  in  their  property  trunks.  Six  wax  tapers 
lit  the  stage,  and  suspended  from  the  ceiling  was 


THE  CITY  HALL 


131 


a  barrel  hoop,  through  which  half  a  dozen  nails 
had  been  driven,  in  lieu  of  sconces,  for  the  candles, 
served  as  chandelier.  The  orchestra  consisted  of 
a  flute,  a  horn,  and  a  drum. 

The  times  were  colourful.  On  the  occasion  of 
a  benefit  to  Mr.  Jago  in  this  theatre,  the  adver¬ 
tisement  stated:  “Mr.  Jago  humbly  begs  that 
all  ladies  and  gentlemen  will  be  so  kind  as  to 
favour  him  with  their  company,  as  he  never  had 
a  benefit  before,  and  is  just  come  out  of  prison 
Upon  another  occasion  Mrs.  Davis  gave  a  benefit, 
in  order  to  “  buy  off  her  time.”  It  was  the  prac¬ 
tice  of  masters  of  vessels  to  bring  passengers  to 
New  York  upon  condition  that  they  should  be 
sold  as  servants,  immediately  upon  arrival,  to  any 
person  who  would  pay  their  passage  money.  They 
were  bound  for  a  definite  period  of  time,  and  were 
called  “  redemptors.”  Mrs.  Davis  was  one  of 
these. 

A  tablet  on  the  corner  of  the  City  Hall  marks 
the  spot  where  was  read  the  address  that  pro¬ 
claimed  the  birth  of  a  free  and  independent  nation. 
A  horseman  brought  the  news  of  the  adoption  of 
the  Declaration  of  Independence  from  Philadel¬ 
phia,  the  soldiers  of  the  new  Union  were  ordered 
to  the  Common  and  there,  before  a  great  con¬ 
course  of  people  and  the  commander-in-chief,  he 


132  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


made  the  tremendous  announcement.  The  wild 
enthusiasm  of  the  crowd  as  it  rushed  away  found 
expression  in  the  tearing  down  of  the  portrait  of 
George  III  from  the  City  Hall  in  Wall  Street, 
and  the  destruction  of  his  leaden  statue  in  Bowling 
Green. 

With  so  much  historic  background  it  seems  par¬ 
ticularly  fortunate  that  so  fine  a  building  as  the 
City  Ilall  should  mark  so  memorable  a  spot  in 
tbe  development  of  the  nation.  It  has  been  ranked 
among  the  three  or  four  finest  examples  of  colo¬ 
nial  architecture  extant.  “  When  New  York  was 
so  small  that  its  business  and  its  dwelling  parts 
together  did  not  extend  much  above  Chambers 
Street,’’  says  Richard  Grant  White,  in  writing  of 
this  edifice,  “  its  citizens  erected  the  handsomest 
public  building  that  to  this  day  (1911)  is  to  be 
found  within  its  new  immensity,  and  one  of  the 
finest  to  be  found  in  the  country.” 

The  City  Hall  presides  with  a  distinct  air  of 
elegance  over  the  intensely  active  centre  of  affairs 
in  which,  after  over  one  hundred  years  of  utility, 
it  still  surprisingly  finds  itself.  Projected  in  the 
last  year  of  the  eighteenth  century,  the  corner-stone 
was  laid  in  1803.  and  the  building  first  occupied 
in  1811.  It  has  the  great  advantage  of  having 
been  conceived  by  a  cultivated  French  architect 


ROTUNDA  AND  STAIRWAY,  CITY  HALL 


THE  PORTICO  OF  CITY  HALL,  LOOKING  WEST 


THE  CITY  HALL 


133 


and  carried  out  by  a  conscientious  Scot;  while  a 
second  Frenchman  made  the  exquisite  finish  in 
such  details  as  the  carving  of  capitals  and  orna¬ 
ment. 

It  is  curious  that  the  authorship  of  a  building 
so  important,  as  well  as  so  extremely  beautiful, 
should  ever  have  been  a  matter  of  doubt,  but  it 
was  not  until  the  publication  of  the  first  volume 
of  Mr.  Phelps-Stokes’  monumental  work  on  the 
“  Iconography  of  Manhattan  Island,”  last  year, 
(1916)  that  the  controversy  as  to  the  authorship 
of  the  prize  drawings  for  the  building  has  been 
settled  beyond  apparent  further  question;  and 
proper  credit  given  to  the  French  architect,  Joseph 
F.  Mangin,  McComb’s  senior  partner,  for  the 
design  of  a  building  essentially  and  distinctly 
French. 

When,  in  1800,  a  committee  was  appointed  to 
consider  the  erection  of  a  new  city  hall,  its  first 
step  towards  the  achievement  of  that  enterprise 
was  to  offer  a  premium  of  $350  for  the  best  de¬ 
sign  submitted.  Mangin  and  McComb  won  the 
prize  over  twenty-five  competitors,  and  three  of 
the  prize  drawings,  showing  the  front  and  rear 
elevations  and  the  cross  section,  are  preserved  in 
a  collection  of  one  hundred  and  five  drawings 
relating  to  City  Hall  left  by  John  McComb,  and 


134  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


inherited  by  his  granddaughter,  Mrs.  Edward  S. 
Wilde,  from  whom  they  passed  to  the  New  York 
Historical  Society,  in  1898,  together  with  Mc- 
Comb’s  diary  and  his  record  book.  The  restora- 
,  tion  and  decoration  of  the  Governor’s  Room  in 
the  City  Hall,  in  1907,  brought  to  light  the  exist¬ 
ence  of  these  valuable  drawings  which  was  not 
discovered  until  after  the  wrork  was  undertaken. 
They  proved  of  invaluable  assistance. 

After  the  design  was  accepted,  the  name  of 
Joseph  Mangin  disappears  from  further  connec¬ 
tion  with  the  building.  No  explanation  has  been 
offered  of  the  rupture  that  must  have  taken  place 
between  the  two  architects,  but  it  seems  highly 
probable  that  they  fell  out  over  the  committee’s 
suggestion  that  the  accepted  plan  should  be  modi¬ 
fied,  and  the  size  of  the  building  reduced  to  save 
expense.  This  must  have  been  most  distasteful 
to  the  artist  of  the  firm,  and  Mangin  probably 
refused  all  compromise  that  would  affect  the 
beauty  and  purity  of  his  plan.  It  would  seem  in 
perfect  character  with  the  artistic  temperament 
to  have  preferred  to  chuck  the  whole  commission 
rather  than  suffer  alterations  prejudicial  to  the 
purity  of  the  design.  An  examination  of  the  three 
existing  prize  drawings  shows  an  erasure  over 
McComb’s  signature  wThere  Mangin’s  name,  as 


THE  CITY  HALL 


135 


senior  architect,  belongs,  which  shows  to  what 
an  extent  the  feeling  between  the  two  had  gone. 
McComb  submitted  the  modified  plan  in  accord¬ 
ance  with  the  committee’s  ideas,  and  bided  his  time 
to  persuade  the  members  to  return  to  the  original, 
which  they  did,  in  most  respects,  restoring  the 
original  width  and  voting  for  restoration  of  the 
original  depth,  unfortunately  too  late  to  make  the 
change.  Meanwhile  the  old  committee  was  dis¬ 
charged  and  a  new  one  formed,  and  this  new  com¬ 
mittee  appointed  John  McComb  architect  of  the 
building  with  complete  control  over  every  depart¬ 
ment,  at  a  salary  of  $6  per  day  for  each  and  every 
day  that  he  was  engaged  at  the  new  hall. 

Mangin  was  the  architect  of  the  first  St. 
Patrick’s  Cathedral  and  of  the  State  Prison,  of 
which  the  plan  and  elevation  are  preserved  in  the 
Schuyler  Collection  of  the  New  York  Public 
Library.  The  firm  of  Mangin  Brothers,  archi¬ 
tects,  68  Chambers  Street,  appears  in  the  city 
directory  for  several  years  at  the  close  of  the 
eighteenth  century.  “  A  careful  study  and  com¬ 
parison  of  the  designs  and  draughtsmanship  of 
these  two  architects,”  says  Mr.  Phelps- Stokes, 
“  and  a  close  inspection  of  the  City  Hall  plans, 
leaves  little  doubt  that  the  competitive  drawings 
for  the  City  Hall  embodied  the  ideas,  as  well  as 


13G  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


the  draughtsmanship,  of  Mangin  rather  than  of 
McComb.  Their  presentation  is  distinctly  French, 
the  shadows  are  cast  in  the  conventional  French 
‘  graded  wash  ’  manner,  which  was  never  used  by 
McComb,  and  the  drawing  itself  is  superior  to  any 
drawing  known  to  have  been  made  by  McComb. 
A  comparison  of  the  City  Hall  competitive  draw¬ 
ings,  both  plan  and  elevation,  with  the  sheet  of 
drawings  containing  the  original  competitive  de¬ 
signs  for  St.  John’s  Chapel,  which  Mr.  McComb 
was  willing  to  sign  ‘  John  McComb  Jun.  Del.’  will 
settle  beyond  a  doubt  the  respective  positions  of 
Mangin  and  McComb,  both  as  designers  and 
draughtsmen.  To  an  architect  it  appears  self- 
evident  that  he  who  made  the  one  (St.  John's) 
could  never  have  made  the  other  (the  City  Hall).” 

The-  importance  of  McComb’s  actual  work,  in 
collaboration  with  his  partner  in  the  preparation 
of  the  designs,  and  as  architect  of  record  in  charge 
during  the  entire  period  of  construction,  is  not  to 
be  belittled.  He  developed  the  working  drawings, 
and  proved  himself  a  conscientious  and  thorough 
contractor,  holding  to  his  purpose  through  many 
vicissitudes  in  the  progress  of  the  building,  fre¬ 
quently  advancing  necessary  funds  from  his  pri¬ 
vate  purse  to  meet  pressing  demands  and  to  earn’ 
on  the  work,  while  appropriations  were  pending. 


THE  CITY  HALL 


137 


He  was  vested  with  every  authority  by  the  com¬ 
mon  council,  which  had  utmost  confidence  in  his 
business  ability,  sound  judgment,  and  integrity. 
When  first  conceived  it  was  the  intention  to  carry 
out  the  design  in  brownstone,  and  McComb  was 
empowered  to  purchase  a  quarry  of  this  product  in 
Newark;  and  when,  later,  the  committee  yielded 
to  their  architect’s  eloquent  appeal  for  better 
material  in  the  construction  of  a  building  that  was 
“  intended  to  endure  for  ages,”  he  resold  the 
Newark  quarry,  and  secured  marble  for  the  front 
and  two  end  views  from  West  Stockbridge,  Mas¬ 
sachusetts.  Great  difficulty  was  experienced  in 
transporting  the  marble  over  the  Berkshire  Hills 
by  teams  of  horses  and  oxen,  and  McComb  himself 
supervised  the  building  of  roads  and  the  strength¬ 
ening  of  bridges.  He  used  to  make  the  trip  to 
West  Stockbridge  on  horseback  to  attend  to  the 
work  at  the  quarries  and  expedite  the  transporta¬ 
tion,  and  he  kept  a  record,  in  what  he  termed  his 
“  Marble  Book,”  of  the  material  as  it  was  received, 
each  block  being  accurately  described;  and  this 
shows  that  35,271  cubic  feet  of  marble  were  used, 
costing  a  trifle  over  $35,000. 

The  work  was  subject  to  frequent  delay  on 
account  of  the  refusal  of  the  aldermen  to  grant 
the  necessary  appropriations,  and  the  little  econo- 


138  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


mies  practised  argue  as  eloquently  for  the  archi¬ 
tect’s  Scotch  thrift  as  for  the  stinginess  of  the  civil 
authorities  in  providing  for  the  beauty  and  dura¬ 
bility  of  their  municipal  building.  The  base  and 
the  north  side  are  of  the  brownstone,  McComb’s 
concession  to  the  aldermanic  point  of  view,  for 
which  he  found  no  doubt  comfort  in  the  thought 
that  the  land  to  the  north  of  City  Hall  would  prob¬ 
ably  remain  farms  and  marshes.  The  north  side, 
however,  is  painted  white  to  simulate  uniformity 
of  material, — an  architectural  insincerity  that 
should  he  effaced. 

The  carvers  were  not  appointed  till  early  in 
180.5,  when  John  Lem  air  e  was  engaged  as  chief 
carver  at  $4  a  day.  The  excellence  of  his  work¬ 
manship  and  artistic  knowledge  is  noticed  in  the 
exquisite  carving  of  capitals  and  ornaments,  work 
which  McComb  proudly  claimed  was  not  surpassed 
by  any  in  the  United  States  and  seldom  better 
executed  in  Europe,  and  which  “  for  proportion 
and  neatness  of  workmanship  will  serve  as  models 
for  future  carvers,”  a  prediction  that  has  been 
realized.  The  design  is  pure  and  no  pains  or 
research  have  been  spared  to  make  it  so.  The 
capitals  of  the  first  and  second  orders  are  marvels 
of  execution.  Lemaire’s  name  is  cut  in  the  top  of 
the  blocking  course  over  the  front  attic  story,  as 


THE  MAYOR’S  RECEPTION  ROOM,  CITY  HALL  (PAGE  I42) 


“the  marquis  de  lafayette” 

BY  SAMUEL  FINLEY  BREESE  MORSE 
MAYOR’S  RECEPTION  ROOM,  CITY  HALL 
(PAGE  I42) 


THE  CITY  HALL 


139 


well  as  the  names  of  the  building  committee,  archi¬ 
tect,  and  master  mechanic. 

The  Fields,  at  the  time  of  the  proposed  erection 
of  the  City  Hall,  was  already  a  sort  of  civic  centre 
of  New  York,  and  the  new  edifice  was  intended 
to  form  one  of  a  group  of  municipal  buildings 
including  the  Alms  House  on  its  north,  the  Gaol 
on  the  northeast,  and  the  Bridewell  to  the  north¬ 
west.  That  the  position  of  City  Hall  was  selected 
with  due  regard  for  its  relation  to  these  buildings 
is  shown  by  the  plan  of  the  Fields,  submitted  with 
the  design  of  the  building.  This  provided  for  a 
site  raised  above  the  surrounding  land,  and  the 
hall  was  to  be  so  placed,  in  its  relation  to  the 
Bridewell  and  the  Gaol,  that  its  cupola  should 
line  with  that  on  the  Alms  House,  and  the  “  mugs  ” 
in  front  range  with  Murray  Street.  The  portico 
originally  commanded  an  unbroken  view  down 
Broadway,  with  St.  Paul’s,  the  wooden  spire  of 
Trinity,  and  the  cupola  of  Grace  Church  lending 
color  to  the  picture;  while,  as  planned,  the  vista 
from  the  Battery  included  Broadway  widening 
into  its  Common,  crowned  by  this  graceful  symbol 
of  the  city  government. 

The  building  was  never  completed  according  to 
the  accepted  design.  The  front  still  lacks  the 
sculptural  mass  intended  to  cap  the  central  bay, 


140  A  LOITERER  IX  NEW  YORK 


and  for  which  the  existing  sketch  shows  a  group 
representing  the  seal  of  New  York  supported  by 
seated  figures  of  the  sailor  and  Indian.  Classic 
figures  were  designed  to  stand  along  the  roof,  and 
in  the  execution  were  replaced  by  urns,  and  these, 
it  is  thought,  were  the  “  mugs  ”  referred  to  in  the 
prospectus.  In  the  original  drawing  a  clock  occu¬ 
pies  the  space  given  to  the  middle  window  of  the 
attic  story;  this  was  never  executed,  but  instead, 
in  1828,  the  cupola  was  violated  by  the  addition 
of  an  intermediate  section  to  provide  for  the  four 
dials  of  the  clock,  as  it  now  appears.  In  1858 
the  cupola  was  entirely  destroyed  and  the  low 
dome  over  the  great  stairway  seriously  damaged 
by  fireworks  set  off  to  celebrate  the  successful 
laying  of  the  first  Atlantic  telegraph  cable.  When 
these  were  rebuilt  little  effort  was  made  to  restore 
more  than  the  general  appearance  of  the  originals. 

The  City  Hall  has  survived  many  threatened 
dangers  in  its  brief  span  of  life,  and  for  a  time 
its  destruction  seemed  inevitable  in  the  general 
demolition  that  has  become  the  accepted  practice 
in  New  York.  Neglected  and  shabby  it  remained 
for  years,  and  would  have  gone  but  for  the  united 
efforts  of  loyal  citizens  whose  hue  and  cry  were  not 
to  be  disregarded.  It  took  on  a  veritable  new 
lease  of  life,  however,  when  Mrs.  Russell  Sage 


THE  CITY  HALL 


141 


munificently  financed  the  restoration  of  the  Gov¬ 
ernor’s  Room,  that  splendid  salle  on  the  second 
floor,  originally  intended  for  the  use  of  the  gov¬ 
ernor  when  in  the  city.  This  room  became  in  time 
the  municipal  portrait  gallery  and  a  reception 
room  for  the  distinguished  guests  of  the  city. 
Lafayette  and  Edward  VII,  then  Prince  of  Wales, 
were  entertained  here;  and  the  bodies  of  Abraham 
Lincoln  and  John  Howard  Payne  lay  in  state  in 
this  room. 

The  restoration  and  decoration  dates  from  1907 
and  was  done  by  Grosvenor  Atterbury  and  his 
associate,  John  Almy  Tompkins,  McComb’s  orig¬ 
inal  notes  being  closely  followed.  The  Governor’s 
Room  is  now  an  exquisite  return  to  its  epoch,  and 
unique  in  its  harmony  of  line  and  proportion.  In 
it  is  fittingly  hung  the  historic  collection  of  con¬ 
temporary  portraits  of  Washington,  Hamilton, 
and  the  governors  from  1777,  painted  for  the  city 
by  John  Trumbull,  between  1790  and  1808.  Be¬ 
fore  he  was  twenty  Trumbull  had  become  a  colonel 
on  Washington’s  staff  and  done  excellent  service. 
These  portraits  represent  his  most  distinguished 
work  as  a  painter;  and  that  of  Governor  Clinton 
is  considered  his  masterpiece.  Rather  cold  and 
formal  in  manner,  and  lacking  the  vitality  and  joy 
of  a  Stuart  portrait,  they  possess,  on  the  other 


142  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


hand,  a  fine  official  reserve  and  dignity,  eminently 
suited  to  the  room  in  which  they  hang  and  to  the 
characters  they  portray.  All  the  portraits  in  this 
central  room  are  by  Trumbull,  and  all  except  the 
two  over  the  mantels  hang  in  the  original  frames 
made  for  them,  by  Lemaire,  the  sculptor  who  did 
the  carving  on  the  City  Hall. 

The  east  and  west  rooms,  opening  off  the 
Governor’s  Room,  continue  the  portrait  collection 
painted  for  the  city,  and  contain  good  examples 
of  such  early  American  painters  as  John  Vander- 
lyn,  Henry  Inman,  Charles  Wesley  Jarvis,  and 
others.  The  most  delightful  portrait,  preserved 
in  City  Ilall,  is  that  of  Lafayette,  by  Samuel 
Finley  Hreese  Morse,  painted  for  the  city  on  the 
occasion  of  the  general’s  second  visit  to  America, 
in  1824.  It  hangs  over  the  mantelpiece  in  the 
Mayor’s  Reception  Room,  in  company  with  inter¬ 
esting  portraits  of  former  mayors  of  the  city.  This 
great  canvas  shows  Lafayette  in  the  sixty-eighth 
year  of  his  age,  a  gallant  figure,  standing  vigor¬ 
ously.  dressed  modishly,  and  with  a  world  of  char¬ 
acter  and  humor  in  the  face.  It  is  a  stronger  por¬ 
trait  than  that  painted  by  Sully,  during  the  same 
visit,  which  hangs  in  Independence  Hall,  Philadel¬ 
phia,  though  that  too  is  admirable;  and  reveals 
Morse,  whom  we  know  better  as  the  inventor  of 


NATHAN  HALE,  BY  FREDERICK  M ACMONNIES 
CITY  HALL  PARK  (PAGE  I48) 


THE  CITY  HALL  143 

the  telegraph,  to  have  been  a  remarkably  talented 
painter. 

Vanderlyn,  Sully,  Peale,  Jarvis,  Waldo,  Inman, 
Ingham,  and  some  others  competed  for  the  privi¬ 
lege  of  painting  the  distinguished  French  visitor 
for  the  city  of  New  York.  The  choice  fell  upon 
Morse  in  his  most  enthusiastic  period,  and  through 
his  voluminous  correspondence,  edited  by  his  son, 
we  have  ample  record  of  the  progress  of  the  por¬ 
trait,  which  was  painted  under  great  difficulties. 
Not  only  were  the  first  sittings  interrupted  by 
Lafayette’s  many  social  duties  and  many  visitors, 
but  a  more  serious  break  in  the  work  was  occa¬ 
sioned  by  the  death  of  Morse’s  wife,  which  cast 
a  gloom  over  the  whole  proceeding. 

The  sittings  were  begun  in  Washington  on 
February  9,  1825.  “  The  General  is  very  agree¬ 

able,”  wrote  Morse  to  his  wife  on  this  date,  “  He 
introduced  me  to  his  son  by  saying:  ‘  This  is  Mr. 
Morse,  the  painter,  the  son  of  the  geographer; 
he  has  come  to  Washington  to  take  the  topography 
of  my  face.’  ”  The  second  sitting  was  interrupted 
by  a  messenger  who  brought  the  news  of  Mrs. 
Morse’s  sudden  death,  upon  which  Morse  sus¬ 
pended  work  in  order  to  visit  his  family  at  New 
Haven,  and  the  portrait  was  taken  up  and  finished 
later. 


144  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Morse’s  own  description  of  the  portrait  is  taken 
from  a  letter,  written  by  him  towards  the  close  of 
his  long  life.  He  says:  “  Lafayette  is  represented 
at  the  top  of  a  flight  of  steps,  which  he  has  just 
ascended  upon  a  terrace,  the  figure  coming  against 
a  glowing  sunset  sky,  indicative  of  the  glory  of 
his  own  evening  of  life.  Upon  his  right,  if  I  re¬ 
member,  are  three  pedestals,  one  of  which  is  vacant 
as  if  waiting  for  his  bust,  while  the  others  are  sur¬ 
mounted  by  busts  of  Washington  and  Franklin— 
the  two  associated  eminent  historical  characters 
of  his  own  time.  In  a  vase  on  the  other  side  is  a 
flower — the  helianthus — with  its  face  towards  the 
sun,  in  allusion  to  the  characteristic  stern,  uncom¬ 
promising  consistency  of  Lafayette — a  trait  of 
character  which  I  then  considered,  and  still  con¬ 
sider,  the  great  prominent  trait  of  that  distin¬ 
guished  man.” 

Morse  lived  to  be  eighty-one  years  of  age.  Ilis 
life  was  almost  equally  divided  by  his  two  domi¬ 
nant  occupations  into  two  equal  periods.  Up  to 
the  age  of  forty-one  years  he  was  wholly  artist, 
while  during  the  latter  half  of  his  life,  following 
his  epoch-making  invention,  art  was  dispossessed 
by  a  new  goddess,  and  the  brilliancy  of  his  scien¬ 
tific  career  has  obscured  the  immense  importance 
of  his  artistic  output. 


THE  CITY  HALL 


145 


The  city  began  its  valuable  collection  of  por¬ 
traits  in  1790,  by  requesting  President  Washing¬ 
ton  “  to  permit  Mr.  Trumbull  to  ‘  take  ’  his  por¬ 
trait,  to  be  placed  in  the  City  Hall  as  a  monument 
to  the  respect  which  the  inhabitants  of  this  City 
have  toward  him.”  In  the  autumn  of  1804,  soon 
after  the  tragedy  at  Weehawken,  the  common 
council  commissioned  Colonel  Trumbull  to  paint 
the  portrait  of  Alexander  Hamilton,  Trumbull 
had  already  painted,  from  life,  the  excellent  por¬ 
trait  of  Secretary  Hamilton  now  in  the  Metro¬ 
politan  Museum,  and  it  is  said  that,  in  addition  to 
this  record  of  the  statesman,  he  used  Cerracchi’s 
marble  bust,  of  which  the  original  is  now  in  the 
collections  of  the  New  York  Public  Library.  For 
seventy-five  years  the  common  council  continued 
this  policy  of  securing  portraits  of  distinguished 
men. 

The  series  of  governors’  portraits  was  begun  in 
1791,  when  Colonel  Trumbull  was  commissioned 
to  paint  Governor  George  Clinton,  and  the  col¬ 
lection  is  complete  down  to  Governor  Dix,  cover¬ 
ing  a  period  just  short  of  one  hundred  years. 
Trumbull’s  portraits  of  Duane,  Varick,  Livings¬ 
ton,  and  Willett  began  the  series  of  mayors  of 
New  York,  which  is  complete  to  Mayor  Gunther, 
in  1872.  One  of  the  latest  acquisitions  is  a  por- 


146  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


trait  of  John  McComb,  painted  by  Samuel  Waldo, 
about  1820. 

Time  has  dealt  kindly  with  the  City  Hall  in  the 
matter  of  patine,  mellowing  the  whiteness  of  its 
marble  surfaces  to,  as  Hopkinson  Smith  has  said, 
the  complexion  of  a  tea-rose.  The  comparison 
seems  beautifully  apt,  for  this  fair  flower  of  archi¬ 
tecture  stands  indeed  like  such  a  rose  in  a  garden 
of  rank  weeds,  none  more  blighting  in  its  influence 
than  the  distressing  bulk  of  the  General  Post 
Office,  clapped  down  in  the  very  face  of  the 
“  classic  thoroughbred,”  blocking  its  view  and  ob¬ 
truding  its  blatant  personality  into  the  vista  that 
formerly  gave  colour  to  the  ascent  of  Broadway. 

It  is  the  fate  of  New  York  buildings  to  be  old 
before  their  time,  and  juvenile  as  is  the  City  Hall, 
as  buildings  go,  it  is  the  last  of  the  efforts  of  the 
past  century  to  create  for  beauty  as  well  as  prac¬ 
ticality.  The  Gaol  was  long  considered  the  most 
beautiful  building  in  the  city,  being  patterned 
after  the  Temple  of  Diana  of  Ephesus.  When  it 
was  finished,  about  1764,  the  whipping  post, 
stocks,  cage,  and  pillory  were  brought  up  from 
Wall  Street  and  were  set  up  in  front  of  it,  while 
the  gallows,  as  less  constantly  in  requisition,  stood 
screened  from  the  public  eye,  in  the  rear.  This 
little  building,  altered  beyond  recognition,  per- 


THE  CITY  HALL 


147 


sisted  many  years  in  the  guise  of  the  Hall  of  Rec¬ 
ords,  and  was  but  recently  destroyed.  The  Bride¬ 
well,  or  common  jail,  built  in  1775,  was  demolished 
in  1838,  the  stones  being  used  to  build  the  old 
Tombs,  an  interesting  and  gloomy  edifice  in  the 
Egyptian  style,  from  which  it  took  its  lugubrious 
title,  all  significance  of  which  is  lost  in  the  ugly 
modern  structure  now  replacing  it  on  the  original 
site. 

This  site  is  topographically  important  in  the 
history  of  New  York.  When  the  Dutch  examined 
the  extent  of  Governor  Minuit’s  spectacular  bar¬ 
gain,  they  found,  situated  on  that  spot  of  the 
island  where  now  stands  the  Tombs,  a  fresh-water 
pond,  known  in  the  English  tongue  as  the  Collect, 
a  corruption  of  the  Dutch  Kalch-hook,  meaning 
lime-shell  point,  and  given  to  a  shell-covered  prom¬ 
ontory  above  the  pond,  and  later  applied  to  the 
pond  itself.  The  Collect  lay  in  the  middle  of  a 
marshy  valley,  stretching  across  the  island  from 
about  the  present  Roosevelt  Slip  to  the  western 
end  of  Canal  Street.  Its  natural  outlet  was  a 
stream,  called  the  Wreck  Brook,  flowing  from  it 
across  the  swamp  to  the  East  River.  Before  the 
Revolution  a  drain  was  dug  through  the  marsh,  on 
the  line  of  the  present  Canal  Street,  to  the  North 
River.  The  ultimate  filling  in  of  the  Collect 


148  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


was  considered  the  most  important  improvement 
made  in  the  last  decade  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
This  was  done  by  cutting  down  and  casting  into 
it  the  nearby  hills,  the  very  great  depth  of  the 
pond,  reputed  indeed  to  be  bottomless,  caused  the 
commissioners  to  hesitate  before  attempting  such 
heroic  measures;  and  many  plans  for  dealing  with 
the  Collect  were  considered  before  the  filling-in 
process  was  decided  upon. 

Historical  memories  with  which  the  whole  of  the 
region  of  City  Hall  Park  is  replete  have  furnished 
themes  for  sculpture  and  paintings,  to  be  found 
in  numbers  ornamenting  municipal  buildings, 
banks,  office  buildings,  and  others  in  the  neigh¬ 
bourhood,  and  indeed  throughout  the  city. 

The  great  fire  of  September  21,  1776,  burned 
up  New  York  from  Rroadway  to  the  Hudson 
River,  as  far  north  as  St.  Paul’s.  The  next  day 
Nathan  Hale,  a  member  of  Ivnowlton’s  Rangers, 
was  executed  on  full  confession,  some  authorities 
still  insist,  in  this  little  park. 

The  statue  of  Nathan  Hale,  which  stands  be¬ 
fore  the  City  Hall,  is  an  imaginary  portrait  done 
by  Frederick  MacMonnies  when  that  sculptor  was 
but  twenty-eight  years  of  age.  The  romantic  story 
of  the  patriot  spy  fired  the  genius  of  the  sculptor, 
and  the  work,  done  in  his  strongest  youthful  pe- 


HORACE  GREELEY,  BY  JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS  WARD 
CITY  HALL  PARK  (PAGE  150) 


THE  CITY  HALL 


149 


riod,  has  been  classed  as  his  greatest.  After  the 
retreat  of  the  army  from  Long  Island,  Washing¬ 
ton  took  quarters  in  Apthorpe  Mansion,  overlook¬ 
ing  the  Hudson  River,  miles  above  the  little  city 
of  New  York. 

In  answer  to  the  call  for  a  volunteer  to  go  into 
the  British  lines  and  learn  their  plans,  Nathan 
Hale  presented  himself,  and  disguised,  he  made 
his  way  into  the  enemy’s  camp.  He  had  fully 
informed  himself  as  to  their  plans,  when,  hurry¬ 
ing  back  to  his  commander,  he  was  surprised  and 
captured.  At  his  trial  he  admitted  freely  what 
he  had  done,  and,  asked  if  he  had  a  last  word  to 
speak  before  being  hanged,  he  threw  up  his  head 
proudly  and  said,  “  I  only  regret  that  I  have  but 
one  life  to  lose  for  my  country.” 

MacMonnies  presents  him  in  this  supreme  mo¬ 
ment  of  his  life;  fired  with  the  exalted  emotions 
of  youth,  his  arms  pinioned  to  his  sides,  his  ankles 
fettered,  he  stands  proud  but  not  defiant,  with 
tense  sincerity  and  entire  lack  of  pose.  The  figure 
is  intensely  living  and  vital,  beautifully  expressive 
of  the  peculiar  individual  grace  and  charm  that 
characterize  the  work  of  this  most  talented  man. 

In  our  rambles  about  New  York  we  shall  have 
many  opportunities  to  study  MacMonnies,  who  is 
better  represented  than  most  sculptors  in  the  city. 


150  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


He  is  a  native  of  Brooklyn,  where  many  of  his 
most  important  works  are  placed,  but  wherever 
one  finds  them,  whether  in  Prospect  Park,  or  in 
the  pediments  of  the  Bowery  Bank,  or  the  span¬ 
drels  of  the  Washington  Arch,  there  is  always  this 
feeling  for  beauty,  for  nobility  and  refinement,  so 
eloquently  expressed  in  the  youthful  statue  of 
Nathan  Hale. 

Tlie  charming,  realistic  statue  of  a  slovenly  old 
man,  with  a  round  face,  loosely  fringed  by  a  white 
b^ard;  seated  in  a  tasselled  chair,  more  comfort¬ 
able  than  sculpturesque,  is  Ward’s  admirable  ren¬ 
dering  of  Horace  Greeley,  the  founder  of  the  New 
York  Tribune.  It  belongs  against  the  facade  of 
the  Tribune  Building,  from  whence  it  was  removed 
only  a  few  months  ago  to  its  present  detached 
location  before  the  City  Court.  Thus  placed  it 
loses  half  the  interest  of  its  problem,  which  was 
not  only  to  invest  an  eccentric  exterior  with  sculp¬ 
tural  quality,  but  to  place  the  figure  beneath  a 
very  deep  arch  in  a  thick  wall,  backed  up  awk¬ 
wardly  by  a  huge  window.  The  disposition  of  the 
figure  in  a  low  armchair,  leaning  forward,  hold¬ 
ing  a  copy  of  the  paper,  but  looking  out  above  it 
as  if  considering  its  policy,  the  rounded  back  with 
advanced  head,  can  only  be  explained  in  its  rela¬ 
tion  to  the  setting  for  which  it  was  designed.  The 


THE  CITY  HALL 


151 


low,  broad  mass,  raised  upon  a  high  pedestal, 
stood  well  out  of  the  way  of  passers-by  on  the 
sidewalk,  with  a  result  as  harmonious  and  agree¬ 
able  as  could  be  expected.  The  statue  as  it  stands 
is  human  and  uncompromising,  one  of  those  frank 
presentments  of  personalities  that  made  Ward  the 
figure  he  is  in  the  history  of  American  sculpture. 


VIII 


BOUWERIE  VILLAGE 

While  the  little  town  of  New  Amsterdam 
struggled  to  maintain  itself  under  the  protection 
of  the  guns  of  the  fort,  the  back  country  of  the 
island  rapidly  filled  up  with  settlers.  The  poten¬ 
tiality  of  the  territory  for  trade  and  development 
of  various  profitable  kinds,  once  realized  by  the 
mother  country,  the  West  India  Company’s  next 
concern  was  to  devise  means  of  anchoring  the 
colony  to  the  shore.  The  fort  offered  security 
and  defense  against  possible  invasion,  to  the  origi¬ 
nal  settlement,  but  there  was  nothing  very  allur¬ 
ing  to  attract  colonists  to  these  parts,  and  the 
population  was  transient  and  unsatisfactory.  One 
of  the  methods  of  peopling  the  colony  was  by  the 
patroon  system,  under  which  grants  of  land  were 
offered  to  any  man  who  would  emigrate  from 
Holland,  bringing  with  him  not  less  than  fifty 
persons  to  make  their  homes  in  Xew  Xetherland. 
The  company  reserved  the  Island  of  Manhattan 
for  itself,  but  large  farms  were  portioned  out  in 

152 


BOUWERIE  VILLAGE 


153 


this  manner  in  the  surrounding  country.  The 
“  patroon  ”  who  imported  the  colony  became  lord 
of  the  manor,  with  supreme  authority  over  his 
colonists,  who  operated  his  farm  and  contributed 
the  products  of  their  labours  as  rent. 

This  system  of  colonization  failed  utterly,  from 
the  Dutch  Company’s  point  of  view.  The  pa- 
troons  were  solely  interested  in  enriching  them¬ 
selves,  at  the  expense  of  the  company,  trading  in 
furs  against  the  express  regulations  to  the  con¬ 
trary,  and  in  other  ways  breaking  faith  with  Hol¬ 
land,  whose  interests  they  were  supposed  to  serve. 
Under  Kieft’s  administration  the  patroons  were 
done  away  with,  and  free  passage  was  offered  by 
the  company  to  any  one  who  promised  to  cultivate 
the  land  in  the  new  country.  The  prospect  of 
owning  their  own  land  brought  many  colonists, 
and  laid  the  foundation  for  the  whole  of  Greater 
Xew  York,  as  it  stands  to-day. 

Meanwhile  several  small  villages  had  sprung 
up  upon  the  island  itself,  the  Boston  Post  Road 
leading  out  of  the  town  towards  the  Bossen 
Bouwerie,  Haarlem,  and  Bloemendaal,  and 
passing  through  the  little  Bouwerie  Village  on 
its  direct  route. 

During  Kieft’s  governorship,  six  bouweries,  or 
farms,  were  laid  out  on  the  eastern  portion  of  the 


154  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


island;  it  was  one  of  these  that  Peter  Stuyvesant 
purchased  as  a  country  seat,  in  1651,  and  here  he 
came  to  live  after  the  surrender  of  New  Amster¬ 
dam  to  the  English.  Four  years  after  Stuyve- 
sant’s  purchase  of  the  tract  of  land,  of  which  the 
existing  landmark  is  old  St.  Mark’s-in-the-Bowery, 
on  Second  Avenue  and  Tenth  Street,  the  Indians 
came  to  he  considered  a  menace  to  outlying  set¬ 
tlers,  having,  in  retaliation  for  certain  shameful 
outrages  committed  against  themselves,  attacked 
and  killed  several  farmers  and  their  wives.  As  a 
precautionary  measure,  settlers  were  instructed  to 
abandon  isolated  farms  and  to  concentrate  in  ham¬ 
lets.  This  order  led  to  the  establishment  of  the 
Bouwerie  Village,  in  the  vicinity  of  Stuyvesant’s 
farm,  centring  about  where  is  now  Cooper  Union, 
and  to  the  opening  of  the  Bouwerie  Lane  con¬ 
necting  the  village  with  the  town.  This  was  the 
beginning  of  the  first  road  which  extended  the 
length  of  the  island,  a  road  still  identified  as 
that  roofed-in,  traffic-laden  thoroughfare,  rich  in 
honourable,  shameful,  and  pathetic  history,  the 
Bowery. 

Three  years  later  the  murder  of  a  prominent 
settler,  who  had  purchased  the  flats,  on  which  the 
village  of  Haarlem  was  afterwards  built,  led  to  the 
settling  of  a  hamlet,  in  that  locality,  and  to  the 


BOUWERIE  VILLAGE 


155 


extension  of  the  Bouwerie  Lane  to  the  northern 
end  of  the  island. 

Though  almost  every  trace  of  the  original  little 
settlement  is  blotted  out,  Bouwerie  Village  still 
possesses  a  distinct  character  and  flavour  of  its 
own;  and  is  as  different  from  other  parts  of  New 
York  as  it  can  possibly  be.  It  is  rather  amusing 
to  note  how  little  coordination  there  is  between 
these  divisions  of  the  city,  separated  by  uninterest¬ 
ing  wastes  of  mere  streets. 

The  Great  Bouwerie,  constituting  Governor 
Stuyvesant’s  purchase,  was  a  tract  of  land  extend¬ 
ing  two  miles  along  the  East  River,  north  of  what 
is  now  Grand  Street,  and  taking  in  a  section  of 
the  present  Bowery  and  Third  Avenue.  The  vil¬ 
lage  created  by  the  exigencies  of  troublous  times 
soon  included  a  blacksmith’s  shop,  a  tavern,  and 
a  dozen  small  houses;  and  in  time  Peter  Stuyve- 
sant  built  a  chapel,  in  which  Hermanus  Van  Ho¬ 
boken,  the  schoolmaster  after  whom  Hoboken  is 
named,  preached  to  the  members  of  the  governor’s 
household  and  the  few  residents  in  the  neighbour¬ 
hood.  This  chapel  Stuyvesant  erected,  at  his  own 
expense,  prior  to  1660;  his  house  stood  just  north¬ 
west  of  the  church,  and  his  famous  pear  tree, 
brought  over  when  he  returned  from  his  unpleas¬ 
ant  experience  in  Holland,  to  settle  upon  his 


156  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


American  farm,  he  planted  in  his  garden,  where 
it  grew  and  bore  fruit  for  two  centuries.  A  tablet 
on  a  house  at  the  northeast  corner  of  Thirteenth 
Street  and  Third  Avenue  records  the  circumstance 
of  the  planting  of  the  tree,  “  by  which,”  Peter  is 
supposed  to  have  said,  “  my  name  may  be  re¬ 
membered.”  The  City  Hall,  as  well  as  the  His¬ 
torical  Society,  preserves  a  branch  of  this  modest 
memorial  as  well  as  a  picture  of  the  tree. 

Stuyvesant  lived  to  enjoy  his  Rouwerie  to  the 
age  of  eighty  years,  and  was  buried  in  the  grave¬ 
yard  of  the  old  church.  When  Judith,  the  widow, 
died,  in  1692,  she  left  the  chapel,  in  which  the 
old  governor  had  worshipped,  to  the  Dutch  Re¬ 
formed  Church,  stipulating  in  the  transfer  that 
the  Stuyvesant  vault  should  always  be  protected. 
The  chapel  stood  another  hundred  years,  by  which 
time,  being  sadly  fallen  into  decay,  a  great-grand¬ 
son  of  the  governor,  who  had  inherited  most  of 
his  ancestor’s  possessions,  induced  the  vestry  of 
Trinity  Church  to  erect  a  Protestant  Episcopal 
church  upon  the  same  site,  contributing  himself 
eight  hundred  pounds,  as  well  as  the  lot  upon 
which  it  stands  surrounded  by  a  picturesque  grave¬ 
yard.  This  Petrus  Stuyvesant,  old  Peter’s  great- 
grandson,  was  a  member  of  the  Trinity  Corpora¬ 
tion,  and  a  man  of  influence,  so  that  the  vestry 


PORTRAIT  OF  ALEXANDER  HAMILTON,  BY  JOHN  TRUMBULL 
IN  THE  GOVERNOR'S  ROOM,  CITY  HALL  ( PAGE  I41) 


BOUWERIE  VILLAGE 


157 


raised  five  thousand  pounds  for  the  building.  The 
corner-stone  was  laid  in  April,  1795,  and  the  edi¬ 
fice  completed  in  1799.  To  support  the  new 
parish,  Trinity  turned  over  the  income  of  thirty 
lots  of  its  city  property.  The  pews  in  the  lower 
part  of  the  church  were  sold  at  auction  on  a  lease 
for  five  years  at  an  annual  rental  ranging  from 
thirty  to  one  hundred  and  forty  shillings.  Until 
St.  Marks,  each  Episcopal  church  on  Manhattan 
Island  had  been  erected  by  Trinity  as  a  chapel. 

The  body  of  Peter  Stuyvesant  lay  in  a  vault  by 
the  old  chapel,  and  the  new  edifice  was  constructed 
to  cover  that  vault,  which  is  now  visible  from  the 
outer  walk,  so  that  pilgrims  may  read  the  inscrip¬ 
tion  on  the  stone  built  into  the  Eleventh  Street 
side  of  the  foundation.  The  body  of  Governor 
Henry  Sloughter  was  interred  in  the  next  vault. 
The  first  wardens  of  the  parish  were  lineal  de¬ 
scendants  of  Governor  Stuyvesant  and  Governor 
Winthrop;  and  among  the  original  pewholders 
were  Hugh  Gaine,  one  of  the  earliest  and  best 
printers  of  the  city,  and  General  Horatio  Gates. 
Notable  among  the  wardens  and  vestrymen  were 
Colonel  Nicholas  Fish,  of  Revolutionary  fame; 
Gideon  Lee,  once  mayor  of  New  York;  Jacob 
Lorillard,  Clement  C.  Moore,  Hamilton  Fish, 
Henry  E.  Davies,  and  Henry  B.  Renwick.  The 


158  A  LOITERER  IX  NEW  YORK 


trustees  were  Petrus  Stuyvesant,  Francis  Bayard 
Winthrop,  Gilbert  Colden  Willett,  Mangle  Min- 
thorpe,  Martin  Hoffman,  William  A.  Harden- 
brook,  and  George  Rapelye;  the  last  named,  how¬ 
ever,  declined  later  to  serve. 

The  churchyard  has  been  used  exclusively  for 
vault  interment,  and  there  are  no  headstones, — 
merely  the  simplest  of  slabs  covering  the  vaults 
and  inscribed  with  the  name  of  the  owner.  Many 
prominent  families  used  this  burying  ground,  and 
here  lie  the  remains  of  Peter  Goelet,  Thomas 
Barclay,  Jacob  Lorillard,  Nicholas  Fish,  Peter 
Stuyvesant  (the  grandson),  Mayor  Philip  Hone, 
and  Governor  Daniel  D.  Tompkins.  A.  T. 
Stewart’s  body  was  stolen  from  this  cemetery, 
and  the  quiet  stone  with  its  simple  inscription 
still  marks  the  spot  where  he  was  interred. 

What  virtue  there  is  in  a  crooked  street!  The 
slant  of  Stuyvesant  Street,  upon  which  St.  Marks- 
in-the-Bowery  fronts,  gives  charm  and  piquancy 
to  the  whole  quarter.  The  church,  by  the  grace 
of  this  old  relic  of  Bouwerie  Village  days,  stands 
at  variance  to  the  rage  for  parallelograms  that 
affected  the  Commissioners,  who  laid  out  the 
streets  of  New  York.  Fortunately  St.  Marks 
was  built  before  this  happened  and  its  presence, 
at  an  opposing  angle  to  the  rectilinear  sys- 


BOUWERIE  VILLAGE 


159 


tem,  saved  the  street,  so  pleasantly  named  for 
the  founder  of  the  ancient  settlement. 

St.  Marks-in-the-Bowery  now  finds  itself  in  the 
midst  of  one  of  the  most  picturesque  and  colour¬ 
ful  parts  of  the  city.  Second  Avenue,  to  which 
it  presents  its  garden  and  an  angle  view  of  the 
church,  especially  agreeable  to  see  as  one  walks 
up  the  avenue,  having  quickly  shed  the  lustre 
of  a  once  famous  residence  street,  has  taken  on  all 
the  bustle  and  activity  of  a  foreign  boulevard,  with 
terrace  cafes  and  restaurants,  liberally  patronized 
by  foreign  residents,  and  where  English  is  scarcely 
understood.  In  summer,  when  Fifth  Avenue  is 
deserted.  Second  Avenue  alone  vies  with  Broad¬ 
way  in  the  gaiety  indicative  of  a  seething  me¬ 
tropolis. 

The  breadth  of  the  street  and  the  many  beautiful 
old  houses  still  standing  recall  the  days,  well  within 
the  memory  of  comparatively  young  people,  when 
Second  Avenue  succeeded  St.  John’s  Park  as  the 
centre  of  fashion  and  elegance.  I  have  before 
me  a  letter  written  by  a  friend  whose  early  recol¬ 
lections  of  New  York  have  often  entertained  me. 
“  Our  house  in  Second  Avenue,”  she  writes,  “  was 
between  Eighth  and  Ninth  Streets.  On  the  same 
block  were  the  Winthrops,  the  Stuyvesants,  the 
Campbells,  and  opposite  the  Kettletas  and  other 


160  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


old  families,  whose  names  I’ve  forgotten.  Second 
Avenue  was  considered  the  ‘  swell  ’  residence  ave¬ 
nue  in  those  days.  Beautiful  homes  they  were, 
set  back  from  the  street  within  green  yards — the 
wide  avenue  lined  with  trees.  Wide,  spacious 
houses,  with  mahogany  front  doors  and  silver- 
plated  handles.  Inside  were  marble  halls,  four¬ 
teen-foot  ceilings,  all  mahogany  doors,  with  silver 
knobs,  set  in  white  frames,  carved  marble  mantel¬ 
pieces,  great  mirrors,  and  lustre  chandeliers,  hung 
with  brilliant  prisms  (every  summer  enveloped  in 
gauze ) . 

“  When  I  look  back  it  seems  as  though  it  must 
have  been  some  other  child  and  not  I  that  was 
part  of  all  this.  The  cattle  were  driven,  from  the 
farms  above  New  York,  through  Second  Avenue 
to  the  market  in  the  Bowery.  Many  a  time,  as  a 
child,  rolling  my  hoop  on  the  broad  sidewalk,  I 
would  run  into  the  front  yard  and  shut  the  gate 
till  a  drove  of  steers  or  sheep  passed  by — usually 
the  men  drove  them  through  in  the  early  morning, 
but  I  suppose  they  were  delayed  at  times. 

“A.  T.  Stewart’s  grand  department  store  was  at 
Chambers  Street  and  Broadway,  and  to  go  there 
we  took  a  stage  which  ran  through  Eighth  Street 
all  the  wav  to  Broadway  and  down  Broadway  to 
the  Battery.  In  winter  straw  was  put  on  the 


BOUWERIE  VILLAGE 


161 


floor  of  the  stages  to  keep  the  passengers’  feet 
warm.  When  we  alighted  we  had  to  pick  the 
straw  from  our  dresses. 

“  The  old  Baptist  Church  on  Second  Avenue 
was  built  by  one  of  our  cousins,  Colgate.  Wrhen 
my  two  older  sisters  were  little  girls  they  went 
in  there  one  Sunday  and  told  the  sexton  that  it 
was  their  cousin’s  church  and  that  they  could  ‘  sit 
where  they  pleased !’  ”  How  amused  must  have 
been  the  sexton  at  this  bit  of  “  cheek  ”  on  the  part 
of  two  such  correct  little  girls  breaking  away  from 
home  discipline  and  out  on  adventures. 

The  church  stands  opposite  St.  Marks,  and  the 
house  where  the  little  girls  lived  has  been  made 
one  with  its  neighbor  and,  under  a  bright  coat  of 
yellow  paint,  its  first  story  enclosed  in  glass, 
flashes  an  electric  sign,  attracting  visitors  to  the 
“  Stuyvesant  Casino.”  Its  former  elegance  can 
still  be  traced,  however,  in  the  fluted  columns  which 
adorn  its  facade  as  well  as  that  of  its  twin,  the 
Campbell  house,  and  no  doubt  the  upper  rooms 
retain  some  of  their  erstwhile  magnificence. 

My  friend  also  told  me  of  her  recollection  of 
family  burials  in  the  old  New  York  Marble  Ceme¬ 
tery,  a  hidden  graveyard  enclosed  in  a  block 
further  down  the  avenue,  approached  by  a  passage¬ 
way  between  houses.  But  for  this  passageway. 


162  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


this  romantic  spot  is  completely  hemmed  in  by 
dilapidated  houses  and  business  buildings,  and  for 
years  was  forgotten  and  neglected,  growing  wild 
with  weeds  and  suffering  slights  from  the  tenement 
dwellers,  who  dumped  refuse  freely  from  their 
back  windows  upon  the  vaults  of  New  York’s  first 
families.  During  this  time  the  gate  at  the  far  end 
of  the  passageway  was  of  wood  and  so  high  that 
nothing  could  be  seen  except  the  tops  of  trees,  and 
one  might  have  passed  the  cemetery  daily  without 
suspecting  its  existence.  A  fee  of  ten  dollars  used 
to  be  charged  for  opening  a  vault,  and  the  revenue 
from  interments  provided  for  the  care  of  graves, 
but  as  these  became  more  and  more  rare,  and 
finally  practically  ceased,  there  was  no  income  to 
cover  the  expense  of  a  caretaker,  and  the  cemetery 
was  allowed  to  run  wild.  From  time  to  time  the 
descendants  of  the  interred  removed  the  bodies  of 
their  forbears  to  less  obscure  resting-places,  and 
finally,  when  the  desolation  was  at  its  worst,  the 
surviving  vault  owners  established  a  fund  for  the 
permanent  maintenance  of  the  graves.  An  inter¬ 
ment  was  held  here  as  recently  as  1914. 

“  I’d  like  to  see  that  Marble  Cemetery,”  writes 
my  friend.  “  I  have  never  even  been  up  to  it. 
In  olden  days  the  men  of  the  family  went  to  the 
burial  places  and  the  women  mourned  at  home. 


BOUWERIE  VILLAGE 


168 


I  remember  well — a  little  girl  of  eight  years— the 
October  day,  looking  out  of  an  upper  window  of 
our  home,  to  see  the  procession  of  noted  men  of 
New  York,  with  long  black  scarfs  across  their 
coats,  following  on  foot  the  heavily  draped  coffin 
of  my  aged  father.” 

The  New  York  Marble  Cemetery  was  estab¬ 
lished  in  1880,  about  the  time  that  Washington 
Square  was  redeemed  from  the  potter’s  field  and 
made  the  centre  of  a  fashionable  neighbourhood. 
The  names  of  one  hundred  and  fifty-six  original 
vault  owners  are  indexed  on  marble  tablets,  on  the 
west  wall  of  the  cemetery;  and,  according  to  an 
almost  indecipherable  inscription  on  the  east  wall, 
the  enclosure  was  intended  as  a  “  place  of  inter¬ 
ment  for  gentlemen.”  Fifteen  hundred  burials 
are  recorded,  including  that  of  Perkins  Nichols, 
who  once  owned  the  farm  upon  which  the  ceme¬ 
tery  rests.  According  to  the  original  agreement 
there  are  no  tombstones  marking  graves,  the  po¬ 
sition  of  vaults  being  indicated  by  means  of  squares 
of  marble  of  uniform  size,  let  into  the  walls,  and 
inscribed  simply  with  the  owners’  names  and  the 
numbers  of  the  vaults.  At  the  far  end  of  the 
graveyard  is  the  old  dead  house  of  rough-hewn 
stone,  a  primitive  bit  of  masonry,  resembling  a 
Spanish  dungeon. 


164  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Upon  the  day  in  late  October,  when  I  had  the 
interesting  experience  of  being  personally  con¬ 
ducted  through  this  cemetery  by  the  custodian,  the 
venerable  lilac  bushes,  which  line  the  sides  of  the 
broad  walks,  were  just  bursting  into  bloom,  the 
weather  being  very  mild  for  the  time  of  the  year. 
There  is  always  something  touching  in  this  final 
protest  of  nature  against  the  inroads  of  winter, 
but  in  the  case  of  the  old  lilac  bushes  in  this 
neglected  graveyard,  it  seemed  doubly  charming 
and  significant,  not  only  as  a  symbol  of  the  inverse 
truth,  “  in  the  midst  of  death  we  are  in  life,”  but 
of  the  renaissance  of  interest  and  hope  where  but 
shortly  all  had  seemed  forgotten. 

Having  finally  summoned  courage  to  ask  ad¬ 
mittance  into  a  place  which  looks  so  forbidding 
through  its  two  iron  gates,  it  was  more  than  pleas¬ 
ant  to  find  the  custodian,  Mr.  Frederick  Bommer, 
a  man  with  real  antiquarian  tastes,  and  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  the  personnel,  so  to  speak,  of  his 
cemeteries,  as  well  as  a  picturesque  recollection 
of  the  whole  quarter,  where  he  himself  was  born 
and  raised.  The  question  of  these  forgotten  grave¬ 
yards  had  been  poignantly  revived,  only  that 
morning,*  by  a  sensational  story  in  the  newspapers 
about  an  Italian  lad  who,  in  digging  and  explor- 


*  October  17,  1916. 


BOUWERIE  VILLAGE 


165 


ing  on  a  vacant  lot  at  Second  Avenue  and  Second 
Street,  diagonally  opposite  the  Marble  Cemetery, 
had  accidentally  broken  into  an  old  vault  con¬ 
taining  several  coffins  and  a  barrel  full  of  bones; 
and  fallen  therein,  to  his  intense  dismay.  This 
vault  was  evidently  part  of  an  ancient  cemetery 
connected  with  a  Methodist  church  that  once  occu¬ 
pied  an  adjacent  site,  and  which  in  1840  was 
turned  into  a  public  school.  When,  twenty  years 
later,  the  bodies  were  removed  this  vault  must  have 
been  sealed  up  and  left.  The  last  building  on  this 
site  was  pulled  down  not  long  ago  to  make  way 
for  a  municipal  court-house  to  be  erected  there. 

Two  years  after  the  incorporation  of  the  New 
York  Marble  Cemetery,  the  New  York  City 
Marble  Cemetery  was  started  as  a  rather  potent 
rival,  and  still  may  be  admired  as  a  distinguished 
bit  of  garden,  giving  breath  to  Second  Street, 
east  of  Second  Avenue.  In  this  cemetery  tomb¬ 
stones  and  monuments  were  allowed,  and  the  vault 
owners  seem  to  have  been  at  some  pains  to  show 
how  really  lovely  such  memorials  could  be  made, 
and  how  worthy  of  a  place  in  the  city  beautiful. 
The  walls  too  are  covered  with  vines  and  most 
appropriate  shrubs  and  trees,  in  the  weeping  wil¬ 
low  style,  and  have  been  well  cared  for  during 
eighty-odd  years.  Here  are  buried  Robert  Lenox, 


166  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Marinus  Willett,  Samuel  Kip,  of  Kip’s  Bay,  and 
other  celebrities;  and  here  repose,  it  is  said,  the 
oldest  white  men’s  bones  interred  on  the  Island  of 
Manhattan,  those  of  the  Dutch  dominies,  in  the 
“  Ministers’  Vault,”  brought  here  from  their  origi¬ 
nal  resting-place  at  the  foot  of  the  island.  One  of 
the  most  graceful  monuments  is  to  the  memory  of 
Preserved  Fish,  a  shipping  merchant,  whose  por¬ 
trait  hangs  in  the  Chamber  of  Commerce.  His 
extraordinary  name  we  are  now  asked  to  believe 
was  a  heritage  from  his  father,  and  not  in  honour 
of  his  miraculous  preservation  from  the  perils  of 
the  sea,  whence,  it  was  picturesquely  reported,  he 
was  picked  up  by  whalers  in  his  infancy.  The 
body  of  President  James  Monroe  was  first  in¬ 
terred  here,  and  a  stone  still  marks  his  vault,  from 
which  his  remains  were  removed,  in  1859,  and 
taken  to  Richmond,  Virginia.  John  Ericsson  also 
lay  here  until  his  body  was  taken  to  Sweden. 

Though  Astor  Place  bears  no  physical  trace  of 
the  old  Bouwerie  Village,  of  which  it  was  once 
the  centre,  it  has  distinction  and  interest  enough, 
gained  in  a  later  period  of  its  history,  to  satisfy 
the  most  exigent  of  loiterers.  Perhaps  the  locality 
is  most  famous  as  the  scene  of  the  Forrest-Mac- 
ready  riots,  engendered  by  the  bitter  jealous}’  ex¬ 
isting  between  the  English  and  American  actors, 


BOUWERIE  VILLAGE 


167 


which  assumed  the  proportions  of  an  international 
quarrel.  These  two  great  tragedians  had  each 
his  adherents,  and  in  the  month  of  May,  1847, 
Edwin  Forrest’s  constituents  succeeded  twice  in 
stopping  the  performance  of  Macbeth,  when  Mac- 
ready  was  billed  to  play  the  title  role  at  the  Astor 
Place  Opera  House. 

On  the  second  occasion  the  performance  was 
attempted  in  response  to  a  petition,  signed  by 
many  prominent  citizens,  who  desired  to  efface  the 
memory  of  the  disgraceful  incident  of  a  few  days 
previous,  and  precautions  were  taken  to  keep  For¬ 
rest’s  partisans  from  the  house.  This,  however, 
only  served  to  augment  the  trouble;  many  gained 
admittance,  and  the  performance  was  again  frus¬ 
trated.  Meanwhile  an  unruly  mob  gathered  out¬ 
side  the  theatre,  blocking  Eighth  Street,  and 
assaulted  the  theatre  with  stones.  Macready 
escaped  by  a  rear  exit,  while  a  regiment  and 
a  troop  of  cavalry  cleared  Eighth  Street  and 
reached  Astor  Place.  Before  peace  was  re¬ 
stored  the  riot  act  was  read,  and  thirty-four 
persons  were  killed  and  several  hundred  injured. 
Clinton  Hall,  at  the  junction  of  Eighth  Street 
and  Astor  Place,  replaces  the  old  opera  house. 

Among  the  rapidly  disappearing  landmarks  of 
this  vicinity  is  Colonnade  Row,  already  partly  de- 


168  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


molished,  and  going  down  while  I  WTite.  The 
wide  Lafayette  Place,  now  Lafayette  Street,  was 
opened  through  Vauxhall,  a  pleasure  garden 
of  great  popularity,  which  ran  south  of  Astor 
Place,  between  Broadway  and  Fourth  Avenue,  to 
about  Fifth  Street,  in  182G,  and  soon  after  La 
Grange  Terrace,  named  after  Lafayette’s  home  in 
France,  was  built.  Its  name  was  afterwards 
changed  to  Colonnade  Row.  Washington  Irving 
and  the  first  John  Jacob  Astor  occupied  two 
of  these  residences,  and  from  one  of  the  houses 
President  Tyler  was  married  to  Julia  Gardiner, 
of  Gardiner’s  Island. 

Peter  Cooper’s  house  was  on  the  site  of  the 
present  Bible  House,  at  Eighth  Street  and  Third 
Avenue,  and  his  grocery  store  stood  where  is  now 
the  Cooper  Union,  this  philanthropist's  great 
legacy  to  the  students  of  art  and  science.  Denied 
the  privileges  of  education  himself,  he  devoted  a 
fortune  to  the  establishment  of  this  benevolent 
enterprise.  Started  in  18.55,  it  was  transferred  by 
the  founder  to  the  trustees  with  a  handsome  in¬ 
come,  in  1859. 

The  Museum  for  the  Arts  of  Decoration,  occu¬ 
pying  the  fourth  floor  of  the  Union,  is  of  a  later 
foundation,  and  has  proved  of  immense  service  to 
students  and  specialists  in  this  field.  Modelled 


PETER  COOPER,  BY  AUGUSTUS  SAINT-GAUDENS 
COOPER  SQUARE,  BOWERY  (PAGE  I70) 


BOUWERIE  VILLAGE 


169 


after  the  Musee  des  Arts  Decoratifs,  in  Paris,  it 
is  especially  rich  in  textiles:  it  contains  valuable 
collections  of  furniture,  drawings,  engravings, 
casts,  and  a  large  collection  of  encyclopedic  scrap 
books,  classified,  indexed,  and  made  readily  acces¬ 
sible  by  means  of  a  chart  similar  to  the  chart  in 
use  at  the  Paris  museum. 

The  Decloux  Collection  of  French  decorative 
art,  of  the  Eighteenth  Century,  is  an  assembly  of 
more  than  five  hundred  drawings,  signed  by  the 
leading  French  decorators  of  the  period  repre¬ 
sented,  including  several  by  Watteau  and  Bou¬ 
cher.  The  textiles  include  early  Christian,  Egyp¬ 
tian,  and  Byzantine  tapestry  ornaments,  weavings, 
and  embroideries,  from  the  third  to  the  tenth 
centuries,  discovered  in  the  tombs  at  Ahkmin; 
silks,  brocades,  and  printed  linens,  dating  from  the 
seventh  to  the  fifteenth  centuries,  of  Persian,  By¬ 
zantine,  and  Saracenic  origin;  while  the  Badia 
Collection  of  textiles  from  Barcelona,  the  Vives 
Collection  of  velvets  from  Madrid,  the  Stanislas 
Baron  Collection  of  early  Coptic  tapestries  from 
Paris,  presented  by  J.  Pierpont  Morgan,  place 
the  museum,  in  this  department,  on  a  footing 
with  the  best  of  the  kind  in  Europe. 

The  museum  preserves  Robert  Blum’s  original 
design,  in  oils,  for  the  “  Vintage  Festival,”  the 


170  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


decoration  made  for  the  Mendelssohn  Society,  and 
recently  removed  from  Mendelssohn  Hall,  in  For¬ 
tieth  Street.  This  design  is  accompanied  by  sixty- 
four  studies  of  figures  and  draperies  for  the  dif¬ 
ferent  groups,  composing  the  picture.  These, 
besides  being  of  great  intrinsic  beauty  and  interest, 
are  valuable,  to  students,  in  showing  how  an  im¬ 
portant  decoration  was  conceived  and  executed. 

Augustus  Saint  Gaudens’  benevolent  present¬ 
ment  of  Peter  Cooper  stands  within  the  little  park 
enclosed  by  Cooper  Square,  at  the  rear  of  the 
Union,  and,  thus  placed,  the  philanthropist  com¬ 
mands  a  clear  view  down  the  Bowery,  and  pre¬ 
sides  with  a  fine  air  of  indulgence  over  the  splendid 
“  bums  ”  which  at  all  hours  of  the  day  and  night 
fringe  the  enclosure.  Torn  out,  root  and  branch, 
from  their  historic  nesting-places — Mulberry  Bend, 
Bandit’s  Roost,  and  Ragpicker’s  Row,  by  the 
demolition  of  these  picturesque  haunts  of  crime 
which  honeycombed  the  district  known  as  the  Five 
Points,  Cooper  Square  has  been  adopted  as  a  rest¬ 
ing-place  by  the  vagrants  ruthlessly  deprived  of 
their  privacy  by  the  larger  interests  of  public  wel¬ 
fare.  Exposed  to  the  searchlight  of  “  civic  better¬ 
ment,”  they  sit  idle  and  impotent,  like  wolves  with 
their  teeth  drawn. 

What  disgust  must  they  feel,  these  moral  de- 


BOUWERIE  VILLAGE 


171 


scendants  of  Bill  Sykes,  in  contemplating  Mul¬ 
berry  Bend  “  Park  ” — a  children’s  playground, 
forsooth — where  once  were  houses  three  deep,  with 
scarce  a  suggestion  of  courtyard  between,  and  ac¬ 
cessible  only  to  the  knowing  ones,  by  means  of 
narrow  alleys  hardly  wide  enough  for  broad 
shoulders  to  slouch  through.  Obscure  ways  led 
beneath  houses,  over  low  sheds,  to  beer  cellars  and 
dives,  headquarters  of  iniquity,  where  plots  were 
hatched,  spoils  divided,  and  many  a  scoundrel  sent 
to  his  account  with  all  his  imperfections  on  his 
head. 

Now,  their  dogs  chained,  their  clubs  broken, 
they  must  live  in  the  public  eye,  sleeping  out  bored 
lives  on  the  comfortable  bench  provided  by  Peter 
Cooper.  Kind  and  tender  they  are  to  each  other 
in  their  fallen  state,  sleeping  upon  one  another’s 
shoulders,  shielding  battered  faces  from  the  scorch¬ 
ing  rays  of  a  summer’s  sun,  shifting  and  accom¬ 
modating  themselves  to  a  brother’s  comfort  with 
exemplary  forbearance. 

“  Here  we  are,”  they  seem  to  say,  “  poor  ex¬ 
posed  remnants  of  a  valourous  company,  deprived 
of  the  exercise  of  our  natural  proclivities,  thwarted 
in  the  least  of  our  desires,  all  ground  upon  which 
we  stood  swept  from  beneath  our  feet.  You  say 
we  ought  to  find  work.  Look  at  us.  Who  would 


172  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


have  us?  What  work  is  there  now  in  these  stupid 
commercial  times  fitted  to  such  as  we?  Your  civ¬ 
ilization  has  crowded  out  the  gentleman  of  for¬ 
tune,  the  highwayman,  the  bandit,  professions  ap¬ 
preciated  in  other  centuries — exterminated  in  ours. 
What  weapons  have  we  against  the  modern  system 
of  legitimatized  robbery  whose  magnitude  has 
fairly  swept  away  our  right  to  live.  There  is  no 
help  for  us,  we  have  outlived  our  time.” 

Yet  Peter  Cooper’s  large  humanity  seems  to 
embrace  these  unfortunates,  and  Saint  Gaudens 
has  given  us  an  impressive  statue  of  a  fine  old 
gentleman,  whose  benevolent  schemes  for  dispos¬ 
ing  of  a  fortune,  acquired  during  a  long  and  active 
life  spanning  nearly  a  century,  were  as  creditable 
to  his  intelligence  as  were  the  enterprises  which 
his  sagacity  fostered.  “  Like  an  uncrowned  king, 
or  a  prophet  of  old,”  he  sits,  in  his  classic  niche,  a 
tangible  presence,  a  real  personality,  an  extinct 
type. 

Saint  Gaudens,  who  was  a  student  at  Cooper 
Union  in  boyhood  days,  expresses  the  fulness  of 
that  serene  majesty  of  vigorous  age  by  the  simplest 
of  means — direct  portraiture  without  attempt  at 
artistic  compromise.  Peter  Cooper,  grown  hoary 
and  patriarchal,  maintains  authority  through  his 
works,  and  his  presence  here  holds  a  fallen  thor- 


BOUWERIE  VILLAGE 


173 


oughfare  to  something  resembling  an  ideal;  bring¬ 
ing  one  up,  in  one’s  casual  passings,  to  a  sense  of 
the  permanence  of  noble  effort,  of  accomplished 
good. 

Cooper  Union  marks  the  site  of  the  second  mile¬ 
stone  from  City  Hall,  on  the  old  Boston  Post 
Road,  opened  by  order  of  Governor  Lovelace,  in 
1672.  One  of  the  events  of  the  day  was  to  as¬ 
semble  at  what  is  now  No.  17  Bowery,  to  see  the 
arrival  and  departure  of  the  Boston  stage,  carry¬ 
ing  the  United  States  mail.  The  first  milestone 
stands  in  its  original  position  on  the  Bowery,  op¬ 
posite  Rivington  Street,  and  the  inscription  is 
still  fairly  legible.  Another  stands  on  Third  Ave¬ 
nue  between  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Streets, 
and  there  are  many  others,  set  out  originally  to 
mark  the  distance  from  the  old  City  Hall  in  Wall 
Street.  Benjamin  Franklin,  when  he  was  post¬ 
master  general,  selected  the  positions  for  many 
milestones  along  the  highways,  driving  out  in  a 
specially  contrived  wagon  for  the  purpose,  and 
measuring  off  the  distances.  Some  of  these  so- 
called  Franklin  milestones  are  still  standing — one 
of  them  on  the  Milford  Road  in  Stratford,  Con¬ 
necticut. 

The  land  east  of  the  “  One  Mile  stone  was 
owned  by  James  de  Lancey,  who,  in  1738,  was 


174  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


chief  justice  of  the  colony,  and  later  lieutenant- 
governor.  His  country  house  was  near  the  mile¬ 
stone  at  the  present  northwest  corner  of  Delancey 
and  Chrystie  Streets,  and  a  lane  traced  the  line  of 
the  broader  thoroughfare  now  leading  to  the  Wil¬ 
liamsburg  Bridge,  through  a  green  field  to  the 
de  Lancey  house. 

The  pediments  of  the  Bowery  Savings  Bank,  at 
Grand  Street  and  the  Bowery,  are  interesting  as 
early  work  of  Frederick  MacMonnies.  The  one 
on  the  Bowery  front  is  best  seen  from  the  elevated 
station  which  crowds  the  street  at  this  point,  com¬ 
pletely  cutting  off  the  view  from  the  street;  but 
the  Grand  Street  face  is  clear,  and  the  sculpture 
in  the  pediment  may  be  admired  for  a  simplicity 
and  restraint  characteristic  of  the  sculptor’s  youth¬ 
ful  period. 

About  at  the  point  where  the  Bowery  begins, 
at  the  northern  boundary  of  Chatham  Square, 
stands  the  Thalia  Theatre,  on  the  site  of  the  old 
Bowery  Theatre,  four  times  burned,  and  famous 
in  the  old  days;  for  here  Charlotte  Cushman  made 
her  first  appearance  in  New  York,  and  here  were 
notable  performances  by  the  elder  Booth,  Lester 
Wallack,  Edwin  Forrest,  and  other  dramatic  celeb¬ 
rities.  After  1879  it  achieved  a  national  repu¬ 
tation  for  broad  melodrama.  The  Bowery  Theatre 


BOUWERIE  VILLAGE 


175 


supplanted  the  historic  Bull’s  Head  Tavern,  where 
drovers  traded,  and  where  Washington  and  his 
staff,  reentering  New  York,  after  the  British 
evacuation,  rested,  in  1783. 

Chatham  Square  existed  primitively  as  an  In¬ 
dian  lookout  station,  called  Werpoes,  and  in 
Dutch  days  a  corral  for  the  protection  of  cattle 
enclosed  the  present  area  of  the  square.  The 
“  Kissing  Bridge,”  crossed  the  Old  Wreck  Brook, 
close  by,  and  marked  the  boundary  of  the  little 
city  at  the  time  of  the  Revolution,  and  near  this 
was  the  “  Tea  Water  Pump,”  one  of  the  chief 
sources  of  drinking  water  in  colonial  days. 

Crowded  in  by  tenement  houses  and  shut  off 
from  the  street  by  a  crumbling  stone  wall,  topped 
by  an  iron  fence,  south  of  the  square  on  the  east 
side,  is  the  first  Semitic  burying  ground  in  the 
country,  consecrated  in  1656,  and  said  to  contain 
the  bodies  of  Portuguese  Jews,  the  earliest  of  their 
race  to  emigrate  to  New  York.  This  graveyard 
was  attached  to  the  first  Jewish  synagogue  in  the 
city,  at  Mill  (now  South  William)  Street.  Dur¬ 
ing  the  Revolution  this  spot  was  fortified  as  one  of 
the  defences  of  the  city.  When  the  street,  known 
as  the  New  Bowery,  was  cut  through  the  cemetery 
was  abbreviated,  and  this  remnant  left  high  above 
the  street  level.  Behind  the  rusty  iron  railing  are 


176  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


many  old  brown  tombstones,  in  varying  stages  of 
decay,  inscribed  with  Hebrew  characters  and  sym¬ 
bols.  The  place  has  infinite  suggestion,  so  out 
of  character  it  is  with  the  surrounding  paradox 
of  thrift  and  squalor.  Fine  neglected  shrubs  hold 
their  own  amidst  a  tangle  of  rank  weeds,  and  the 
tragic  New  York  cats,  lean,  hungry,  and  mys¬ 
terious,  take  refuge  here  from  the  bustle  and  con¬ 
fusion  of  the  dark  highway.  The  ubiquitous 
“  Monday’s  wash,”  with  which  New  York  is  strung 
from  one  end  to  the  other,  flutters  its  grey  signals 
from  the  fire  escapes  of  the  Greek  tenements  that 
enclose  this  bit  of  threadbare  green,  in  slatternly 
disregard  of  common  decencies. 

Manhattan  Rridge,  the  last  of  the  bridges  which 
span  the  East  River,  has  completely  effected  the 
threatened  reformation  of  the  district  known  as 
the  Five  Points,  by  introducing  into  an  old  and 
squalid  quarter  the  last  word  in  modern  engineer¬ 
ing.  Though  its  objective  point  is  Canal  Street, 
it  carries  one  high  and  dry  into  the  very  heart  of 
Chatham  Square,  opens  up  the  formerly  elusive 
Chinatown  to  the  most  casual  of  loiterers,  thus 
destroying  its  mysterious  and  lurking  charm. 
Now.  while  in  process  of  completion,  the  bizarre 
contrasts  make  for  the  intensely  picturesque,  but 
handsome  as  is  the  structure  itself,  it  means,  un- 


MANHATTAN  BRIDGE,  BOWERY  TERMINAL 
CARRERE  AND  HASTINGS,  ARCHITECTS 
SCULPTURE  BY  RUMSEY  AND  HEBER  (PAGE  l/~) 


DECORATIVE  PANEL  :  "COMMERCE” 
CARL  A.  HEBER,  SCULPTOR 
DETAIL  MANHATTAN  BRIDGE 
BOWERY  TERMINAL 


BOUWERIE  VILLAGE 


177 


questionably,  the  obliteration  of  one  of  the  most 
extraordinary  sections  of  New  York, — one  of  the 
few  parts  of  a  prosaic  city  where  one  might  lose 
one’s  self  irrevocably  and  dangerously,  in  a  hope¬ 
less,  labyrinthine  slum. 

The  architectural  features  of  the  bridge  are  the 
design  of  that  talented  firm  of  architects,  to  whom 
the  city  owes  so  much  of  fine  building — Messrs. 
Carrere  and  Hastings.  Regarding  the  sculpture, 
the  long  frieze  above  the  arch  on  the  New  York 
side  is  by  C.  C.  Rumsey;  the  groups  “Com¬ 
merce  ”  and  “  Industry,”  on  the  piers,  are  by  Carl 
A.  Heber;  while,  on  the  Brooklyn  end,  the  two- 
seated  figures,  “  New  York  ”  and  “  Brooklyn,” 
are  the  work  of  Daniel  Chester  French. 

It  is  not,  however,  so  much  the  gigantic  feat 
of  the  bridge  itself,  with  its  qualities  of  architec¬ 
ture  and  sculpture,  that  absorbs  us,  as  it  is  the 
place  from  which  New  York  looms  most  vast,  most 
spectacular,  and  most  improbable.  The  amazing 
contrasts  in  the  view  presented,  from  any  point 
throughout  its  length,  make  it  the  most  famous 
loitering  ground  in  all  New  York.  It  is  the  more 
wonderful  because  very  few  people  seem  to  care 
for  the  long  walk  across  the  river,  and  one  may 
have  the  footpath  and  the  benches  more  or  less  to 
one’s  self,  and  from  many  chosen  points  the  spec- 


178  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


tacle  presented,  especially  at  dusk,  when  the  lights 
first  begin  to  change  the  picture,  and  during  all 
the  stages  of  that  change,  until  deep  night  over¬ 
takes  it,  is  a  thing  to  hold  and  to  thrill  one.  The 
stupidity  of  the  immediate  foreground  is  vastly 
mitigated  by  the  endless  festoons  of  wash  that 
drape  the  ugly  lines  of  projecting  tenements  all 
week  long,  hut  more  fabulous  on  Monday,  when 
one  wonders  what  the  population  can  be  wearing 
with  everything  so  flagrantly  in  the  tub.  And 
this  supremely  domestic  touch,  in  the  most  metro¬ 
politan  of  sights,  adds  the  piquant  plausibility 
that  confirms  the  sensation  of  a  vision  dreamed 
rather  than  actually  seen. 


IX 


GREENWICH  VILLAGE 

The  Bossen  Bouwerie 

Arnold  Bennett,  in  his  interesting  survey  of 
our  United  States,  made  the  perspicacious  com¬ 
ment  on  the  essential  difference  between  the  two 
largest  American  cities,  that  Chicago  is  self-con¬ 
scious  while  New  York  is  not.  If  he  had  had 
more  time  to  devote  to  a  study  of  the  variety 
of  life  which  New  York  affords,  Mr.  Bennett 
would  probably  have  been  intensely  amused  to 
find  his  theory  supported  by  the  extreme  self- 
consciousness  of  Greenwich  Village,  whose  popu¬ 
lation  is  largely  drawn  from  that  middle-western 
metropolis. 

Local  historians  have  always  seen  Greenwich 
Village  as  the  “  American  Quarter.”  This  remains 
whimsically  true  of  the  present.  American  life 
is  here  seen,  as  it  were,  in  burlesque,  following  a 
Greenwich  Village  code  of  ethics,  proclaimed  by 
the  little  club,  with  the  misleading  political  name, 
which  seems  to  be  the  mystic  shrine  for  all  true 

179 


180  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


believers.  Restaurants  are  hectic,  mostly  lodged 
in  basements  and  backyards,  fitted  with  long  deal 
tables,  while  the  service  is  of  the  picnic  variety; 
everybody  “  digs  in  and  scoops  ’round  ”  without 
too  much  dependence  upon  an  overworked  func¬ 
tionary  with  socialistic  tendencies,  who  prefers 
honourable  domestic  service  to  selling  his  soul  in 
commercial  pursuits.  The  cooking  is  excellent, 
done  also  by  the  socialists,  and  the  scale  of  prices  of 
a  decent  moderation.  The  proper  dinner  costume 
for  these  resorts  is  something  that  might  be  suitable 
for  going  eel  bobbing  in  a  dory,  on  a  dark,  dank 
night  in  summer,  for  it  will  not  do  to  be  conscious 
of  one’s  raiment,  in  the  sense  of  protecting  it  from 
the  onslaughts  of  neighbouring  diners  or  frantic 
waiters.  Conscious  of  the  picturesque  antiquity, 
and,  if  one  may  say  so,  of  the  uncleanliness  of 
their  garments,  all  true  Villagers  are  wearing  the 
corduroys  of  the  Latin  Quarter,  and  scorning  to 
cut  the  hair — except,  by  perversity,  the  women — 
or  shave,  or  “  slick  up  " — but,  despite  the  effort, 
or  because  of  it,  maintaining  a  certain  staginess 
of  make-up,  and  an  undoubted  suggestion  of 
“  costume,”  while  the  whole  setting  as  well  as  the 
excessive  animation  and  vivacity  of  the  roysterers 
seems  not  to  express  the  real,  inner  life  of  the 
Village.  That,  one  suspects  to  be  a  calm,  prac- 


GREENWICH  VILLAGE 


181 


tical,  well-regulated  affair  enough, — even,  per¬ 
haps,  in  its  practice,  a  thought  Victorian.  In 
support  of  this  psychogenesis,  a  writer  in  the 
Unpopular  Review  describes  the  breakdown  of  a 
young  bride,  who,  living  with  her  husband  in 
Greenwich  Village,  had  finally  to  confide  her  hon¬ 
ourable  state  to  relieve  her  feelings,  but  under 
pledge  of  secrecy,  and  weepingly,  “  For,”  said  she, 
“if  the  Freedom  Club  knew  we  were  really  mar¬ 
ried,  they  would — would  thi-ink  we  were  nar- 
row-w.” 

Conflicting  with  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer’s  theory, 
that  no  aborigines  made  their  homes  on  Manhattan 
Island,  the  Dutch  records  make  reference  to  the 
Indian  Village  of  Sappokanican,  where  Hudson 
is  supposed  to  have  stopped  for  supplies,  and 
identified  as  lying  east  of  the  Gansevoort  Market. 
As  Peter  Stuyvesant  is  associated  with  the 
Bouwerie  Village,  so  his  predecessor,  Wouter  Van 
Twiller,  the  second  Dutch  governor,  is  the  earliest 
connected  with  the  Greenwich  Village.  Amongst 
other  perquisites  of  his  governorship,  this  astute 
Dutchman  appropriated  to  himself  the  Company 
Farm,  No.  3,  covering  the  whole  of  the  future 
ninth  ward,  whose  light,  loamy  soil  seemed  to  him 
to  be  adapted  by  Providence  to  the  setting  of  his 
own  private  tobacco  plantation.  His  farmhouse, 


182  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


probably  the  first  on  the  island  to  be  erected 
beyond  the  protective  limit  of  the  fort,  marked  the 
founding  of  the  Bossen  Bouwerie,  or  farm  in  the 
woods,  by  which  Sappokanican  came  to  be  known 
in  the  Dutch  language. 

The  English  called  it  Greenwich,  and  because 
of  its  healthfulness  and  fertility1',  it  became  a  popu¬ 
lar  place  of  residence  for  well-to-do  New  Yorkers 
in  colonial  times.  Commodore  Peter  Warren,  of 
the  British  Navy,  who  was  here  in  the  service  of 
the  French  and  Indian  War,  bought  one  of  the 
choicest  farms,  embracing  about  three  hundred 
acres,  and  built  thereon  a  country  seat  on  an 
eminence  overlooking  the  river,  whose  site  is  now 
enclosed  by  Charles,  Fourth,  Bleecker,  and  Perry 
Streets.  He  had  married,  in  New  York,  Susan¬ 
nah  de  Lancey,  a  sister  of  the  chief  justice,  and, 
next  to  the  governor,  the  most  important  person¬ 
age  in  the  province.  Ilis  large,  comfortable  house 
was  the  favourite  resort  of  influential  citizens,  the 
objective  point  for  a  fashionable  afternoon  drive, 
being  but  two  miles  out  of  town  by  the  river  road. 
This,  following  the  western  shore  of  the  island, 
in  the  line  of  present  Greenwich  Street,  was 
opened  to  give  access  to  the  several  suburban 
estates  in  this  section,  of  which  Commodore  War¬ 
ren’s  was  the  nucleus.  James  Jauncey,  William 


GREENWICH  VILLAGE 


183 


Bayard,  and  Oliver  de  Lancey,  Lady  Warren’s 
brother,  held  adjoining  farms,  the  latter’s  estate 
being  confiscated  during  the  Revolution  because 
of  de  Lancey ’s  British  sympathies. 

Commodore  Warren’s  daughters  married  well, 
and  their  connections  served  to  augment  the  pros¬ 
perity  of  the  village.  When  the  property  was 
divided  and  new  roads  opened,  their  names  v/ere 
given  to  them.  Of  these,  Skinner  Road  has  be¬ 
come  Christopher  Street,  Fitzroy,  Southampton, 
and  Abington  Roads  have  all  but  disappeared, 
while  Abington  Square  still  perpetuates  the  mem¬ 
ory  of  Charlotte  Warren,  the  commodore’s  eldest 
daughter,  who  married  the  Earl  of  Abington. 

The  short  route  to  Greenwich  Village  crossed 
Lispenard’s  Meadows  and  the  Manetta  Brook, 
where  there  was  a  causeway ;  and  tides  and 
marshes  made  it  so  doubtful  a  thoroughfare  in  bad 
weather  that  it  was  readily  abandoned  for  the 
Inland  Road,  connecting  the  village  with  the 
Bowery,  established  through  the  fields  in  1768. 
The  drive  out  from  town  then  followed  the  Post 
Road  to  Bouwerie  Village,  turned  off  to  the  left 
at  what  is  now  Astor  Place,  followed  Obelisk  or 
Monument  Lane  in  a  direct  line  to  about  the 
position  of  the  Washington  Arch,  and  from  that 
point  to  the  present  Eighth  Avenue,  just  above 


184  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Fifteenth  Street.  The  1  st  section  of  the  old  road 
is  Greenwich  Avenue,  at  whose  terminus  stood  the 
monument  to  General  Wolf,  the  hero  of  Quebec, 
supposed  to  have  been  destroyed  by  the  British 
soldiers. 

The  Manetta  Brook  marked  the  boundary  of 
the  Bossen  Bouwerie  when  Governor  Kieft  set 
aside  the  land  as  a  farm  for  the  Dutch  West  India 
Company.  The  brook  arose  at  about  the  junction 
of  Fifth  Avenue  with  Twenty-first  Street,  flowed 
to  about  the  southwest  border  of  Union  Square, 
thence  across  Washington  Square,  and  along  the 
line  of  Manetta  Street,  emptying  into  the  North 
River,  just  north  of  Charlton  Street.  It  ran 
between  sandhills,  sometimes  rising  to  a  height  of 
one  hundred  feet,  and  crossed  a  marsh  tenanted 
by  wild  fowl,  and  marked  the  course  of  a  famous 
Indian  hunting  ground.  This  brook  has  never 
been  entirely  suppressed.  It  works  silently  in  the 
subterranean  passages  to  which  it  has  been  con¬ 
demned,  disturbs  foundations,  and  creates  general 
havoc  when  excavations  are  attempted. 

Greenwich  Village  developed  at  random  and 
preserves  to  this  day  a  picturesque  distinction, 
though  the  Seventh  Avenue  Subway  excavations 
have  cut  into  and  clarified  many  of  its  most 
tangled  parts.  From  Greenwich  Avenue  on  the 


THE  WASHINGTON  ARCH  AS  DESIGNED  BY  STANFORD  WHITE 
SHOWING  THE  PANELS,  “FIRST  IN  WAR®  AND  “FIRST  IN  PEACE' 
BY  FREDERICK  MACMONNIIfS  (PAGE  205) 


GREENWICH  VILLAGE 


185 


south  side  the  streets  run  away  at  all  sorts  of 
angles,  while  those  on  the  north  side  are  straight 
and  regular,  showing  plainly  enough  how  the  by¬ 
ways  of  the  old  village  met  the  streets  of  the 
commissioners’  city  plan,  making  many  remark¬ 
able  combinations  to  the  endless  confusion  of  the 
uninitiated.  The  case  of  numbered  streets  seems 
indeed  to  offer  undue  violence  to  accepted  tradi¬ 
tions,  though,  as  Kingsley  said,  “  Why  should  the 
combined  folly  of  all  fools  prove  wisdom?”  Per¬ 
haps  it  is  only  prejudice  that  closes  the  mind  to 
the  logic  of  Fourth  Street  crossing  Tenth,  Elev¬ 
enth,  and  Twelfth  Streets  at  right  angles  in  this 
disjointed  region. 

The  section  received  the  final  impetus  which 
carried  it  at  a  bound  from  a  place  of  more  or  less 
remote  country  residence  to  a  thriving  suburban 
village,  from  the  yellow  fever  epidemic  which 
broke  out  in  New  York  in  1822.  The  city  had 
had  several  scourges  of  smallpox  and  fevers,  but 
none  so  violent  as  this,  which  drove  panic-stricken 
citizens  from  the  town,  while  the  infected  district 
was  fenced  off,  that  no  one  might  enter  it.  This 
condition  may  be  the  more  readily  understood 
when  we  read  that  “  as  late  as  1820  thirty  thou¬ 
sand  hogs  roamed  the  streets  of  New  York,  living 
on  the  garbage  thrown  into  the  streets.” 


180  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Greenwich  was  quickly  called  into  requisition 
to  meet  the  situation;  the  post-office  and  custom 
house  were  hastily  installed  here  and  many  banks, 
insurance  offices,  and  newspapers  followed,  carry¬ 
ing  with  them  practically  the  entire  business  of 
the  metropolis.  Bank  Street  received  its  name 
as  a  souvenir  of  these  times,  when  many  wooden 
buildings  were  hastily  constructed  throughout  its 
length  for  the  accommodation  of  the  banking 
firms  of  the  city.  The  celerity  with  which  the 
transformation  was  effected  is  described  by  the 
Reverend  Mr.  Marcelus,  whom  Devoe,  in  his 
“  Market  Book,”  quotes  as  saying  that  he  had  seen 
corn  growing  at  the  present  intersection  of  West 
Eleventh  and  Fourth  Streets,  on  a  Saturday 
morning,  and  on  the  following  Monday  Sykes 
and  Niblo  had  erected  there  a  house  capable  of 
accommodating  three  hundred  boarders.  Even 
the  Brooklyn  ferryboats  ran  up  here  daily. 

Milligan  Place  and  Patchen  Place,  hopelessly 
side-tracked  by  the  ruthless  city  planners  in  their 
insistence  on  parallelograms,  cling  to  a  precarious 
foothold  near  the  old  Jefferson  prison  on  Sixth 
Avenue,  and  have  been  spasmodically  affected  by 
the  literary  colony  of  the  quarter  as  possessing 
atmosphere,  if  not  light  and  air.  The  second 
“  Beth  Haim,”  in  the  midst  of  green  fields,  front- 


GREENWICH  VILLAGE 


187 


ing  on  Milligan  Lane,  established  early  in  the 
nineteenth  century,  as  a  branch  of  the  original 
Jewish  cemetery  at  Chatham  Square,  may  be 
identified  in  the  tiny  triangular  remnant  wedged 
in  between  houses,  just  off  the  corner  of  Eleventh 
Street  and  Sixth  Avenue.  When  Eleventh  Street 
was  cut  through  in  1830,  it  passed  directly  through 
this  graveyard,  destroying  most  of  it.  At  this 
time  it  was  removed  to  a  spot  further  out  into 
the  country,  now  boxed  in  by  abandoned  depart¬ 
ment  stores  in  Twenty-first  Street,  a  little  west 
of  Sixth  Avenue.  Interments  were  made  in  this 
place  until  1852,  when  the  cemetery  was  removed 
to  Cypress  Hills,  Long  Island,  the  common  coun¬ 
cil  having  in  that  year  prohibited  burials  within 
the  city  limits.  These  three  burial  spots  the 
Shearith  Israel  Synagogue  has  persistently  refused 
to  sell,  and  they  stand,  each  one  more  curiously 
out  of  value  with  its  surroundings  than  the  other. 

Throughout  Greenwich  Village,  and  between 
that  and  Chelsea  there  are  to  be  discovered  by 
patient  diligence  many  evidences  of  the  streets 
and  courts  of  the  old  villages  that  survived  the 
destruction  of  landmarks  by  the  carrying  out  of 
the  commissioners’  plan.  Sometimes  a  passage¬ 
way  between  houses  will  lead  into  an  inner  court 
with  little  frame  dwellings  or  neat  brick  houses, 


188  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


bearing  as  they  may  the  indignity  with  which  they 
have  been  treated.  Occasionally  a  house  or  two 
have  been  left  standing  within  deep  front  yards 
by  the  purchase  of  which  the  proprietor  has  main¬ 
tained  his  frontage  on  the  new  thoroughfare;  but 
many  more  lie  hidden  away  in  the  centre  of  blocks 
and  are  to  be  found  only  by  burrowing  through 
narrow  alleys,  closed  by  wooden  gates,  and  lead¬ 
ing  to  the  rear  of  the  outer  modern  dwellings.  So 
completely  immured  are  they  that  the  casual 
observer  walking  through  the  neighborhood  would 
never  suspect  their  existence. 

Some  literary  memories  are  connected  with 
Greenwich.  Tom  Paine  passed  the  closing  years 
of  his  life  in  a  small  house  in  Bleecker  Street; 
and  Barrow  Street,  opened  after  his  death,  was 
first  called  Reason  Street,  in  compliment  to  the 
author  of  “  The  Age  of  Reason.”  The  house 
where  he  died  was  demolished  when  Grove  Street 
was  widened,  in  1836. 

The  only  way  to  be  comfortable  in  New  York 
is  to  accept  transition  as  its  ruling  characteristic; 
neither  to  mourn  the  destruction  of  old  landmarks, 
nor  to  rail  against  the  existing  unsightly.  Tout 
passe,  tout  casse,  tout  lasse  was  never  more  truly 
said  of  human  life  than  of  this  city,  where  things 
break,  pall,  and  are  forgotten  with  staggering 


GREENWICH  VILLAGE 


189 


brevity.  Not  only  does  nothing  last,  nothing  is 
intended  to  last,  and  this  has  been  true  ever  since 
the  Dutch  merchants  built  Fort  Manhattan  of 
wood,  and  as  rapidly  as  possible,  “  because  the 
traders  did  not  intend  to  live  in  it  a  great  while.” 
The  same  thing,  in  effect,  might  be  said  to-day 
of  the  skyscraper,  built  as  a  seven  days’  wonder, 
with  no  thought  for  longevity.  Long  before  it 
begins  to  disintegrate  it  will  have  been  thrown 
down  like  the  card  house  it  so  resembles,  to  make 
room  for  the  latest  thing  in  architecture.  Man¬ 
hattan  Island  for  three  hundred  years  has  been 
the  architect’s  and  builder’s  experiment  station, 
where — failures  or  successes — all  are  destroyed  in 
time. 

Let  this  thought  give  us  courage  for  a  walk 
down  Varick  Street,  to  St.  John’s  Chapel,  left,  in 
the  first  decade  of  its  second  century,  almost  sole 
survivor  of  one  of  the  most  exclusive  parts  of 
town  some  seventy  years  ago.  In  the  early  days 
of  the  past  century,  when  this  second  chapel  of 
Trinity  parish  was  projected,  the  way  led  from 
Greenwich  Village  over  open  and  partly  fenced 
lots  and  fields,  not  at  that  time  under  cultivation, 
and  remote  from  any  dwelling  house,  except 
Colonel  Aaron  Burr’s  former  country  seat,  on  an 
elevation  called  Richmond  Hill.  The  house  had 


190  A  LOITERER  IX  NEW  YORK 


been  built  by  Abraham  Mortier,  commissioner  of 
the  forces  of  George  III,  in  1760,  and  was  occu¬ 
pied  by  General  Washington  as  his  headquarters 
in  the  year  1776,  and  later  by  Vice-President 
Adams.  Aaron  Burr  took  it  in  1797,  improved 
the  grounds,  constructed  an  artificial  lake,  long 
known  as  Burr’s  Pond,  and  entertained  lavishly 
during  ten  years  of  residence.  The  approach  was 
through  a  beautiful  entrance  gateway  at  what  is 
now  the  intersection  of  Macdougal  and  Spring 
Streets,  while  the  site  of  the  house  is  embraced 
within  the  block  lying  northwest  of  this  junction. 
Through  the  gateway,  we  are  to  suppose,  walked 
Aaron  Burr  early  one  summer  morning,  in  1804, 
to  his  appointment  with  Alexander  Hamilton  on 
the  heights  of  the  Jersey  shore,  just  above  Wee- 
hawken,  where  the  duel  took  place.  Hamilton, 
mortally  wounded,  was  carried  to  William  Bay¬ 
ard’s  house,  No.  8  Jane  Street,  in  Greenwich 
Village,  where  he  died  next  day. 

A  well-beaten  path  led  from  the  village  to  the 
city,  crossing  a  ditch  through  Lispenard’s  salt 
meadows,  now  flowing  peacefully  through  a  cul¬ 
vert  under  Canal  Street.  This  was  the  same 
swamp,  of  course,  as  that  surrounding  Collect 
Pond,  and  for  many  years  it  made  a  large  part 
of  the  valley,  that  crossed  the  island  at  what  is 


GREENWICH  VILLAGE 


191 


now  Canal  Street,  a  dangerous  quagmire.  So 
many  cattle  were  lost  by  straying  into  it  that  bars 
were  put  up  across  Broadway  and  the  whole  area 
of  the  swamp  was  fenced  off  by  order  of  council. 
It  was  Anthony  Rutgers  who  drained  the  marsh, 
receiving  in  consideration  of  his  service  to  the  com¬ 
munity  a  gift  of  the  whole  affected  area,  in  all  a 
parcel  of  seventy  acres,  one  of  the  neatest  trans¬ 
actions  in  real  estate  recorded  since  the  days  of 
Governor  Minuit.  The  meadows  were  named  for 
Leonard  Lispenard,  Rutgers’  son-in-law,  who 
inherited  the  property. 

To-day  one  must  make  one’s  way  down  Varick 
Street  over  the  debris  of  the  new  subway  exten¬ 
sion  that  has  demoralized  Seventh  Avenue  and 
destroyed  quaint  byways  in  Greenwich  Village. 
Varick  Street  was  named  for  the  mayor ‘of  New 
York,  whose  portrait  by  Trumbull  hangs  in  City 
Hall.  His  country  residence,  “  Tusculum,”  on 
an  elevation  east  of  Manetta  Brook,  gave  colour 
to  the  locality;  and  its  site  is  commemorated  by 
Varick  Place,  in  narrow  Sullivan  Street.  The 
picturesque  confusion  caused  by  the  extensive 
excavations,  as  well  as  the  widening  of  Varick 
Street,  enhances  greatly,  for  the  moment,  the  value 
of  the  contrasts  of  that  once  quiet  thoroughfare. 
Seventh  Avenue  has  been  carried  in  a  direct  line 


192  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


across  the  tangle  of  village  streets,  from  its  former 
terminus  in  Greenwich  Avenue  to  where  Varick 
Street  starts  out,  at  the  lower  end  of  Hudson 
Park,  leaving  devastation  in  its  wake.  It  is  as 
though  a  great  knife  had  cut  neatly  through, 
taking  out  a  rhomboidal  section,  and  leaving  odds 
and  ends  of  the  buildings  that  met  its  blade  stand¬ 
ing  to  be  patched  up  and  made  the  best  of  by 
indignant  property-owners.  Strange  segments  of 
houses  stand  exposed,  like  dolls’  houses,  and  one 
can  stare  into  three  stories  of  the  domestic  tragedy 
at  a  glance,  while  the  owner  of  this  triangular 
remnant  of  his  home  casts  about  for  the  best 
means  of  meeting  his  dilemma. 

The  widening  process  has  taken  a  liberal  slice 
from  the  left-hand  side  of  Varick  Street,  and  with 
it  block  after  block  of  nice  old  houses  similar  in 
period  to  those  intact  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
way,  meeting  no  serious  obstacle  in  its  path  until 
it  came  to  St.  John’s,  at  whose  demolition  the  long- 
suffering  public  drew  the  line.  At  present  the 
historic  old  structure  juts  out  from  the  surveyor’s 
line,  and  when  the  street  is  paved  the  sidewalk 
will  run  under  the  portico  of  the  church,  and  the 
floor  will  be  levelled  to  that  of  the  sidewalk. 
Precedent  for  this  solution  of  the  problem,  which 
the  church  presented,  exists  in  the  similar  treat- 


GREENWICH  VILLAGE 


193 


ment  of  the  churches  of  St.  Michael  and  St. 
Philip,  in  Charleston,  South  Carolina. 

This  variation  in  the  straight  line  is  highly 
desirable  in  its  effect  on  the  aspect  of  the  street 
and  the  opportunity  it  affords  for  picturesque 
views  of  the  church.  Going  south  one  has  a  con¬ 
tinuous,  shifting  picture  of  the  delicate  spire  of 
St.  John’s  silhouetted  against  the  huge  light  mass 
of  the  Wool  worth  Building,  the  highest  achieve¬ 
ment  in  skyscrapers,  which  counts  nowhere  so 
favourably  as  in  the  walk  down  Varick  Street, 
unless  it  be  from  the  Manhattan  Bridge.  Like 
the  duomo  in  Florence,  it  must  be  seen  from  afar 
and,  if  possible,  from  an  eminence  to  appreciate 
its  magnitude.  From  the  bridge  it  takes  its  part 
as  the  dominating  factor  in  a  situation  where 
everything  is  on  a  fabulous  scale;  in  Varick  Street 
it  looms  suddenly,  and  gains  improbability  from 
a  humble  provincial  environment  with  which  it  is 
thoroughly  out  of  proportion. 

One  of  several  lines  of  superannuated  horse-cars 
runs  along  this  street  over  the  buried  subway.  The 
type  dates  back  some  forty  years,  and  to  see  the 
cars  ambling  along,  the  driver  flourishing  a  long 
whip,  and  the  conductor  standing  sheepishly,  on  the 
broken-down  platform  at  the  rear,  one  might 
fancy  one’s  self  transported  back  to  the  Centen- 


194  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


nial  period.  Surely  this  relic,  more  than  the 
Woolworth  Building,  bespeaks  the  metropolis. 
No  other  city  would  dare  offer  its  inhabitants  so 
antiquated  a  mode  of  conveyance,  yet  in  this  quiet 
section,  marked  by  the  sincere  brick  dwellings  of 
the  last  century,  it  jingles  along  appropriately 
enough,  and  even  braves  its  way  through  New 
Chambers  Street,  offering  a  bizarre  extreme  to 
tbe  ponderous  Manhattan  Building,  and  compet¬ 
ing  with  the  most  modern  means  of  transportation 
in  the  world. 

Prior  to  the  completion  of  the  City  Hall,  St. 
John’s  was  considered  the  finest  building  in  the 
city.  The  corner-stone  was  laid  in  1803,  at  which 
time  the  locality  was  a  swamp  overgrown  by  brush, 
inhabited  by  frogs  and  snakes.  In  front,  a  sandy 
beach  stretched  down  to  the  river  at  Greenwich 
Street.  The  Trinity  corporation  was  greatly 
criticized  for  establishing  a  chapel,  especially  so 
large  and  fine  a  one,  “  so  far  uptown,”  and,  to 
meet  the  argument  of  its  remoteness,  Trinity  laid 
out  a  handsome  square  directly  in  front  of  the 
church,  with  pleasant  walks,  flower-beds,  and  trees 
and  shrubs,  and  made  it  a  private  park  for  the 
use  of  citizens  who  might  purchase  the  encircling 
lots.  The  park  became  a  paradise  for  birds — 
robins,  bluebirds,  wrens,  and  Baltimore  orioles 


"the  delicate  spire  of  st.  John’s" 

FROM  A  WATER  COLOR  SKETCH 
BY  JESSIE  BANKS  (PAGE  I94) 


"st.  John’s  from  yosk  street 

ETCHED  BY  ANNE  GOLDTH WAITE 


GREENWICH  VILLAGE 


195 


nested  in  the  trees,  and  filled  the  air  with  color 
and  song.  Many  of  the  better  class  citizens  of 
the  young  metropolis  were  attracted  to  this  new 
neighbourhood;  and  Alexander  Hamilton,  General 
Schuyler,  and  General  Morton,  as  well  as  the 
Drakes,  Lydigs,  Coits,  Lords,  Delafields,  Ran¬ 
dolphs,  and  Hunters,  were  among  those  who 
owned  the  houses  and  had  keys  to  the  park,  to 
which  no  outsiders  were  admitted. 

The  chapel  stood  within  its  own  garden  facing 
the  square,  and,  that  the  neighbourhood  should 
not  be  depressed  by  the  thought  of  death,  the 
burying  ground  was  established  further  out 
towards  Greenwich  Village,  and  has  lately  been 
made  over  into  Hudson  Park  at  the  end  of  Varick 
Street.  Sir  Christopher  Wren  was  again  followed 
in  the  style  of  the  chapel,  which  is  much  larger 
and  more  imposing  than  any  other  of  the  old 
churches  in  New  York.  John  McComb,  the 
builder  of  City  Hall,  was  the  architect,  and  St. 
Martin’s-in-the-Fields  was  the  model.  The  ma¬ 
terial  was  stone,  rough  cast  and  painted  to  sim¬ 
ulate  the  brownstone  of  which  the  portico,  with 
its  Corinthian  columns,  is  built,  and  of  which  the 
trims  are  made.  The  bell,  the  clock  in  the  steeple, 
and  the  fine  old  hand-wrought  iron  fence,  now 
rotting  in  a  rubbish  heap  in  the  desolate  garden, 


196  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


were  brought  over  from  England.  The  chapel 
has  been  closed  for  some  time,  but  there  is  an 
intelligent  custodian  and  it  is  quite  possible  to 
inspect  the  interior.  Until  June  1,  1916,  a  curate 
came  from  St.  Luke’s  Chapel  to  conduct  a  seven 
o’clock  service.  Sometimes,  the  sexton  told  me, 
as  many  as  ten  persons  attended. 

The  galleries,  columns,  and  pulpit  are  original, 
contributing  charm  to  a  somewhat  gloomy  interior, 
an  effect  enhanced  by  the  depressing  colour  of  the 
whole. 

What  the  new  subway  when  finished  will  mean 
for  this  luckless  neighbourhood,  who  can  tell?  In 
the  brief  span  of  a  man’s  life  it  has  passed  through 
all  the  stages  that  lie  between  birth  and  decay 
with  unprecedented  swiftness.  Its  aristocratic 
high-water  mark  was  reached  about  sixty  years 
ago,  when  the  church  and  park  were  the  centre 
of  one  of  the  most  dignified  parts  of  town,  a  con¬ 
dition  maintained  for  scarce  a  decade,  when  its 
slow  decline  was  precipitated  by  Trinity’s  sale  of 
St.  John’s  Park  to  the  Hudson  River  Railroad 
Company  for  one  million  dollars.  Thus  were  the 
community,  the  church,  and  the  park  crushed 
utterly,  in  1869.  the  date  being  recorded  on  the 
unsightly  freight  station  planted  squarely  over  the 
whole  four  acres  of  unfortunate  park — a  stagger- 


GREENWICH  VILLAGE 


197 


ing  blow  from  which  there  was  no  hope  of  recov¬ 
ery.  The  cruelty  of  this  blight  is  poignant  to  this 
day,  and  it  wrings  the  heart  to  see  to  what  depths 
of  degradation  the  wide-front  houses,  of  which 
many  stately  wrecks  remain,  have  fallen.  Erics¬ 
son  was  the  one  man  of  position  who  refused  to 
be  dislodged  by  this  disastrous  caprice  of  fortune. 
He  lived  and  died  in  the  first  of  the  remaining 
block  of  houses  on  the  south  side  of  the  erstwhile 
park,  No.  36  Beach  Street.  There  is  nothing  but 
the  shell  of  this  mansion  to  recall  its  former  dig¬ 
nity.  The  silver  handles  are  gone,  the  escutcheons 
sold  for  old  metal,  the  fluted  columns  flanking  the 
entrance  slant  at  opposing  angles,  doors  swing 
wide  on  rusty,  broken  hinges,  and  motley  tenants 
come  and  go  staring  defiantly  at  the  aesthetic 
loiterer  who  lingers  before  the  threshold  in  a 
complexity  of  reverie. 

The  cheerful  flippancy  with  which  the  Hudson 
River  Railroad  Company  stamped  out  every  trace 
of  the  poetic  charm  that  once  this  locality  exhaled, 
the  supreme  egoism  that  never  questioned  its  ex¬ 
clusive  right  to  live  at  the  expense  of  a  whole 
community,  is  immortalized  in  that  most  outra¬ 
geous  “  art  treasure  ”  in  New  York — the  incred¬ 
ible  sheet-iron  pediment,  erected  on  the  Hudson 
Street  front  of  the  freight  station  in  honour  of  the 


198  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


railway  achievements  of  Cornelius  Vanderbilt. 
This  atrocious  mass  of  sculpture  consists  of  a 
central  full-length  statue  of  the  commodore, 
standing  in  a  niche;  on  his  right  Ceres,  on  his  left 
Neptune,  lolling  in  abandoned  attitudes,  made  the 
more  ludicrous  by  the  loss  of  sections  of  their  legs 
and  arms,  exposing  the  hollow  sham  of  their  sup¬ 
posed  anatomy,  within  the  which  nest  pigeons. 
The  intervening  spaces  between  the  statue  and 
the  mythological  figures  are  crammed  with  a  mass 
of  detail  representing  ships  and  shipping,  trains 
and  steam  engines  running  headlong  into  one 
another,  in  a  valiant  effort  to  express  the  stupen¬ 
dous  activities  of  a  life  of  business  adventure  in 
which  the  extermination  of  a  neighbourhood  was 
a  mere  incident.  If  one  questions  the  state  of 
society  that  permitted  so  monstrous  a  piece  of 
vandalism  as  the  carrying  of  a  freight  station  into 
the  garden  spot  of  a  city’s  most  reserved  quarter, 
this  work  of  art  surmounting  the  whole  egregious 
mass  of  fact  is  the  terrific  answer. 

A  cold  spring  or  summer  day,  with  a  touch 
of  Scotch  mist  in  the  atmosphere,  is  the  most  sym¬ 
pathetic  to  the  understanding  of  Varick  Street 
and  its  environs.  Charlton,  Vandam,  and  Domi- 
nink  Streets  are  full  of  quiet  self-respecting  private 


GREENWICH  VILLAGE  199 

dwellings.  The  little  brick  houses  of  two,  two 
and  a  half,  and  three  stories  date  from  about  sixty 
years  ago,  but  among  them,  here  and  there,  are 
many  wooden  dwellings  of  a  much  earlier  period. 
In  Dominink  Street,  especially,  are  to  be  found 
old  frame  houses  with  hip-roofs,  brass  door-knobs 
and  numbers,  immaculately  clean;  one  boasts  even 
a  well-worn  name-plate  in  polished  brass,  while  a 
paradise  tree  shades  the  front  and  protects  the  view 
where  adjoining  houses  have  been  torn  away. 

Behind  St.  John’s  Chapel,  York  Street  opens 
a  distinguished  vista  of  the  church  and  steeple 
above  the  stone  wall  that  encloses  the  eminence  on 
which  it  stands,  the  lower  streets  having  been 
levelled  in  accordance  with  the  commissioners’ 
plan.  Across  the  rear  of  the  chancel  enclosure, 
the  paradise  tree  again,  friend  of  the  fallen,  throws 
its  protecting  shade  in  a  graceful  effort  to  miti¬ 
gate  the  desolation  of  its  lonely,  unaffiliated  state, 
and  all  this  charm  can  be  taken  in  in  a  flash 
from  the  elevated  train,  as  it  whisks  one  by,  on 
its  noisy  way  downtown;  and  a  moment  after, 
in  the  street  below,  one  may  catch  a  glimpse  of 
the  sole  surviving  remnant  of  Annetje  Jans’ 
Farm,  of  which  all  this  section  bounded  by  the 
river,  and  as  far  north  as  Tenth  Street  in  Green¬ 
wich  Village,  was  a  part. 


X 


WASHINGTON  SQUARE 

Washington  Squaee  as  the  base  line  of  Fifth 
Avenue  draws  therefrom  inevitable  distinction, 
and  extends  its  Palladian  influence  as  far  north 
as  Twelfth  Street  in  that  thoroughfare,  beyond 
which  it  rapidly  loses  all  control  of  the  most  way¬ 
ward  street  in  the  world.  The  square’s  own  dig¬ 
nity,  as  a  centre  of  refinement  and  elegance,  has 
been  retrenched  and  violated  on  all  sides  except 
the  north,  which  still  presents,  with  one  exception, 
the  “  Row  ”  of  period  houses  built  by  wealthy 
New  Yorkers  of  the  early  thirties,  when  society, 
always  seeking  foothold  apart  from  business  inva¬ 
sion,  settled  eagerly  in  this  promising  locality. 

The  growth  of  the  city  northward  was  acceler¬ 
ated  by  the  yellow  fever  epidemic  of  1822,  which 
populated  Greenwich  Village,  and  was  now  to 
result  beneficently  for  the  marshy  land  lying,  be¬ 
tween  Greenwich  and  Bouwerie  Villages,  along 
Monument  Lane.  The  swamp  and  waste  land 
hereabout,  forming  part  of  the  farm  of  Elbert 

200 


WASHINGTON  SQUARE 


201 


Herring,  had  been  purchased  by  the  city  for  a 
potter’s  field  in  1797;  and  here  were  buried  during 
the  scourges  which  swept  the  city  early  in  the 
past  century  thousands  of  bodies,  many  of  which 
still  lie  beneath  the  soil  of  Washington  Square. 
That  it  was  not  strictly  a  paupers’  burying  ground 
was  proven  by  the  unearthing  of  gravestones  (a 
luxury  not  allowed  paupers)  when,  in  1890,  ex¬ 
tensive  excavations  were  made  for  the  foundations 
of  the  Washington  Arch. 

But  all  memory  of  paupers  and  yellow  fever,  as 
well  as  of  the  gallows  that  once  formed  a  con¬ 
siderable  attraction  in  this  pleasant  spot,  seems  as 
remote  as  do  those  earlier  stories  of  trout  fishing 
in  the  Manetta  Brook,  and  of  wild-duck  shooting 
in  the  marsh,  through  which  it  wandered,  now 
Washington  Square.  The  potter’s  field  was  lev¬ 
elled,  filled  in,  and  abandoned  in  1823;  additional 
land  was  added  four  years  later,  and,  under  the 
new  title  of  Washington  Parade  Ground,  walks 
were  laid  out,  trees  planted,  and  the  whole  en¬ 
closed  by  a  wooden  fence. 

Among  the  merchants  who  built  along  the  upper 
side  of  the  square,  in  1831,  were  Thomas  Suffern, 
John  Johnston,  George  Griswold,  Saul  Alley, 
James  Boorman,  and  William  C.  Rhinelander. 
Their  houses  had  deep  gardens  with  gay,  box- 


202  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


bordered  flower-beds,  beyond  which  stretched  the 
open  country.  As  the  avenue  was  developed,  little 
by  little,  and  the  first  streets  opened  to  the  east 
and  west  of  these  early  beginnings,  these  houses 
were  accepted  as  the  type  for  the  neighbourhood, 
which  was  all  for  the  elegance  of  simplicity  and 
fine  proportions,  while  what  detail  was  used  was 
of  the  best.  This  was  happily  before  the  brown- 
stone  blight  had  left  its  trail  upon  domestic  archi¬ 
tecture,  and  the  fluted  columns  with  carved  capi¬ 
tals,  the  window  trimmings,  and  front  steps  are 
all  of  white  marble,  contrasting  neatly  with  the 
cheerful  red  brick  of  the  period.  This  happy 
influence,  here  concentrated,  gives  to  the  whole 
neighbourhood  a  distinction  of  its  own.  In  many 
cases  the  houses  are  still  tenanted  by  the  descend¬ 
ants  of  the  original  owners,  others,  notably  the 
little  two-and-a-half-story  dwellings  in  Eleventh 
Street,  known  as  Brides’  Row,  have  been  reclaimed 
by  intelligent  real  estate  dealers,  and  restored  to 
their  pristine  quaintness. 

Until  1894  the  old  grey  castellated  buildings 
of  the  New  York  University,  built  in  1837,  stood 
on  the  east  side  of  the  square.  In  the  old  build¬ 
ing  Morse  established  his  studio — he  was  perhaps 
the  first  artist  to  work  in  Washington  Square — 
and  here  he  experimented  with  the  telegraph. 


“WASHINGTON  THE  SOLDIER”  BY  HERMON  A.  MACNEIL 
PHOTOGRAPHED  FROM  THE  PLASTER  IN  PLACE  ON  LEFT  PIER 
WASHINGTON  ARCH  (PAGE  207) 


WASHINGTON  SQUARE 


203 


Here  also  Draper  wrote,  and  perfected  his  inven¬ 
tion  of  the  daguerrotype ;  and  Colt  invented  the 
revolver  named  for  him.  Nearby  is  the  site  of  the 
house,  also  long  since  demolished,  where  Henry 
James  was  born.  He  himself  has  described  feel¬ 
ingly  the  impossibility  of  reconstructing,  out  of 
the  uncompromising  mass  of  stone-faced  girders 
clapped  down  over  the  scene  of  such  hallowed 
memories,  any  of  the  tender  sentiment  that  the 
square  must  have  at  that  time  expressed.  One 
can  but  turn  one’s  back  to  the  displeasing,  and 
get  what  one  can  from  the  fine  physique  of  the 
square  itself  and  the  picture,  wherein  swarms  of 
alien  workers  make  holiday  against  a  background 
of  classic  souvenirs.  The  Italian  residents,  whose 
quarter  touches  the  southern  extremity  of  the 
square,  have  made  the  place  more  homelike  for 
themselves  by  the  erection,  in  1888,  of  Turini’s 
statue  of  Giuseppe  Garibaldi,  under  whose  patri¬ 
otic  influence  their  children  may  imbibe  more  of 
hero  worship  than  of  art. 

Ward’s  bust  of  Alexander  Lyman  Holley,  the 
American  inventor  and  engineer,  associated  with 
the  manufacture  of  Bessemer  steel,  was  given  to 
the  city  the  following  year,  and  with  its  fine  archi¬ 
tectural  setting,  by  Thomas  Hastings,  erected  in 
Washington  Square  as  one  of  the  improvements 


204  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


to  the  locality,  inspired  by  the  centenary  anniver¬ 
sary  of  Washington’s  inauguration. 

The  chief  of  these  improvements,  the  Wash¬ 
ington  Arch,  was  erected  as  a  temporary  Arc  de 
Triomphe  for  the  celebration  of  this  event,  at  the 
expense  of  William  Rhinelander  Stewart  and 
other  residents  of  Washington  Square.  It  was 
considered  so  successful  that  a  fund  was  raised,  by 
popular  subscription,  to  make  it  a  permanent 
memorial  to  the  first  President,  and  the  present 
arch  was  finished  in  1895.  To  this  fund  Pade¬ 
rewski,  then  making  his  initial  tour  of  this  coun¬ 
try,  devoted  the  proceeds  of  one  of  his  piano 
recitals.  The  arch  is  one  of  those  carefully 
transplanted  bits  of  foreign  architecture  by  which 
one  soon  learns,  in  New  York,  to  recognize  the 
hand  of  Stanford  White.  Very  perfect  and 
charming  in  themselves,  they  have  no  special  rele¬ 
vancy  to  the  city,  nor  to  the  purpose  to  which 
they  have  been  adapted,  and  stand  in  time  and 
character  as  so  many  exotics  in  a  provincial 
setting. 

Nevertheless,  to  take  from  New  York  the  works 
of  Stanford  White  would  be  to  rob  it  of  its 
greatest  beauty.  He  did  much  for  architecture 
in  New  York:  his  name  stood  for  quality  and  he 
took  care  to  associate  with  himself,  in  the  execu- 


WASHINGTON  SQUARE 


205 


tion  of  details  in  the  buildings,  the  best  available 
artists  of  his  time.  Saint  Gaudens,  La  Farge,  and 
White  made  a  powerful  trio  twenty  to  thirty 
years  ago  when  they  left  their  big  mark  in  the 
field  in  which  they  collaborated.  At  the  time,  too, 
that  the  Washington  Arch  was  made,  MacMon- 
nies  was  a  young  sculptor,  just  coming  into  prom¬ 
inence.  His  French  training,  at  the  Ecole  des 
Beaux  Arts,  especially  qualified  him  for  the  work 
that  White  needed  on  his  Triumphal  Arch,  and 
the  beautifully  executed  spandrels  show  how 
fully  he  understood  his  problem.  They  have, 
with  all  their  grace  and  charm,  the  inestimable 
quality  of  flatness — of  resting  in  one  plane — 
essential  to  the  harmony  of  this  architectural 
result. 

Together  the  two  artists  conceived  and  planned 
the  completion  of  the  sculptures  for  the  arch — for 
years  left  in  an  unfinished  state — and,  fired  with 
the  richness  of  the  idea  for  which  the  memorial 
was  meant  to  stand,  MacMonnies  sailed  away  to 
Paris,  and  there  in  his  studio  he  made  the  sketches 
for  the  two  groups  of  Washington — “  First  in 
War,  First  in  Peace  ” — which  were  to  symbolize 
the  great  outstanding  features  of  the  subject  and 
give  point  and  flavour  to  the  arch  as  a  commemora¬ 
tive  monument.  These  were  the  groups  that  were 


206  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


to  have  been  placed  against  the  piers  of  the  arch, 
on  the  side  facing  the  avenue. 

These  groups,  designed  by  MacMonnies,  were 
enthusiastically  approved  by  White  as  exactly 
expressing  his  thought  for  the  arch,  and  accepted 
as  final.  They  show — the  sketches  have  been  pre¬ 
served — Washington,  the  Commander-in-Chief, 
and  Washington,  the  President,  accompanied  in 
each  case  by  two  allegorical  figures.  The  Com¬ 
mander  is  being  crowned  by  Courage  and  Hope 
— the  President  by  Wisdom  and  Justice.  The 
figures  are  in  full  relief  against  a  panoply  of  flags. 
Made  twenty-five  years  ago,  in  the  flux  of  the 
sculptor’s  most  youthful,  imaginative  period,  they 
have  infinite  charm  and  a  richness,  both  of  idea 
and  sculptural  quality,  that  is  not  of  this  age. 

Most  unhappily  they  were  never  carried  out. 
The  work  was  at  first  deferred  owing  to  lack  of 
funds  and  with  White’s  subsequent  death  the 
whole  question  of  the  completion  of  the  arch  was 
allowed  to  lapse  for  so  long  a  time  that  it  became 
ancient  history.  When  the  project  of  the  two 
groups  for  the  piers  was  recently  revived,  Mr. 
MacMonnies  was  in  France  and  the  architect 
dead:  and  so  the  commissions  were  turned  over 
to  two  resident  sculptors  without  further  cere¬ 


mony. 


WASHINGTON  SQUARE 


207 


Unfortunately,  instead  of  setting  aside  the 
original  scheme  entirely  and  conceiving  something 
quite  different,  just  enough  of  the  first  design 
was  retained  to  recall  MacMonnies’  sketch  with¬ 
out  giving  its  essential  qualities.  Where  the  orig¬ 
inal  shows  the  group  as  an  inspired  ensemble  of 
figures  in  high  relief,  set  as  a  “  bouquet  ”  against 
the  pier,  the  later  development  is  unpleasantly 
unrelated  to  the  surface  of  the  arch. 

Furthermore  MacNeil’s  panel,  which  is  in  place, 
may  be  criticized  as  too  small  in  design  and  too 
large  in  scale.  The  single  figure  of  Washington 
is  not  rich  enough  and  its  size  is  entirely  too  big 
for  the  scale  of  the  arch.  The  result  is  ruinous 
to  the  arch  itself;  all  its  charming  elegance  of 
proportion  is  destroyed  by  this  insistent  presence 
on  the  left  pier.  Mr.  Calder’s  group  is  in 
the  cutter’s  hands;  its  general  features  corre¬ 
spond  to  those  of  MacNeil’s  panel,  while  the  mod¬ 
elling  is  much  bolder,  and  the  whole  gesture  more 
dramatic. 

We  had  learned  to  accept  the  arch  in  its  unfin¬ 
ished  state  as  a  rather  cold  but  very  perfect  little 
monument.  MacMonnies’  sculpture  was  to  have 
added  the  warmth  of  the  related  note  that  was  to 
have  brought  its  perennial  significance  promi¬ 
nently  before  us.  In  its  present  state  that  is 


208  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


gone;  but  since  New  York  delights  in  demolition 
a  mistake  which  seems  unpardonable  may  some 
day  be  rectified. 

We  have  Stanford  White  and  John  La  Farge 
in  handsome  combination,  on  the  lower  side  of 
the  square,  in  the  Judson  Memorial — the  Baptist 
temple  erected  to  honour  Adoniram  Judson, 
the  celebrated  missionary  to  Burmah,  where  he 
settled  in  1813.  He  translated  the  Bible  into 
Burmese  and  wrote  a  Burmese-English  dictionary. 
The  style  of  the  building  is  chaste,  while  the  pure 
white  interior  of  the  chapel  renders  immensely 
effective  the  La  Farge  windows  of  which  there 
are  twelve,  the  one  exception  being  the  memorial 
window  to  John  Knott,  which  was  executed  after 
Mr.  La  Farge’s  death,  by  a  pupil,  from  designs 
left  by  the  artist.  The  two  floating  angels,  hear¬ 
ing  an  inscribed  tablet  in  memory  of  Joseph 
Blachlev  Hoyt,  placed  over  the  pool,  behind  the 
platform,  are  by  Herbert  Adams. 

We  have  the  three  artists,  La  Farge,  White, 
and  Saint  Gaudens  in  the  perfection  of  collabora¬ 
tion  at  Tenth  Street,  in  that  dim  old  church  of 
1810,  built  in  response  to  the  needs  of  the  growing 
community  that  settled  about  the  square,  as  it 
began  to  reach  into  the  gradually  developing  ave¬ 
nue.  Its  name  is  wonderfully  perpetuated  in  La 


WASHINGTON  SQUARE 


209 


Farge’s  chef  d’oeuvre,  the  great  “  Ascension,” 
that  fills  the  west  wall  of  the  chancel,  and  so 
absorbs  the  interest  of  the  visitor,  who  may  stray 
into  this  silent  place,  that  he  is  only  vaguely  con¬ 
scious  of  the  “  rich  note  of  interference,”  as  James 
says,  that  comes  “  through  the  splendid  window- 
glass,  the  finest  of  which,  unsurpassingly  fine,  to 
my  sense,  is  the  work  of  the  same  artist;  so  that 
the  church,  as  it  stands,  is  very  nearly  as  com¬ 
memorative  a  monument  as  a  great  reputation 
need  wish.”  That  there  is  this  interference  is 
only  too  manifest,  when  one  puts  one’s  mind  on 
it,  perhaps  the  more  so  that  the  windows  are  not 
all  by  La  Farge  and  so  the  more  disturbing, 
though  his  have  been  made  the  type.  If  they 
were  not  all  of  the  uniform  style,  carrying  out 
La  Farge’s  discoveries  in  coloured  glass,  there 
would  not  be  the  distraction  of  testing  one’s 
shrewdness  in  separating  the  real  from  the  spu¬ 
rious,  a  temptation  which  assails  one  in  the  midst 
of  one’s  highest  feeling  for  the  decoration,  whose 
sufficiency  pervades  and  dominates  the  dusk  in¬ 
terior.  And  so  one  comes  always  back  to  it  as, 
after  all,  the  thing,  the  enduring  thing  for  this 
edifice. 

La  Farge  made  it  within  a  stone’s  throw  of  its 
destination,  in  the  old  Studio  Building  in  Tenth 


210  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Street,  so  that  it  has  the  rare  advantage,  for  New 
York,  of  having  been  produced  and  placed  under 
homogeneous  conditions.  The  adornment  of  the 
chancel  is  the  work  of  several  artists,  under  the 
general  direction  of  the  three  collaborators,  the 
altar  and  rcredos  in  stone  mosaic  lending  extraor¬ 
dinary  texture  and  quality  to  the  wall  under  the 
great  painting.  The  windows  cover  a  period  of 
twenty  years  of  La  Farge’s  life.  The  Southworth 
Memorial  was  done  by  the  firm  of  La  Farge  and 
Wright,  in  1890,  and  the  Davies  Coxe  Memorial 
by  La  Farge,  in  1908,  shortly  before  his  death. 
They  mark  what  was  then  a  new  departure  in 
stained  glass,  based  upon  the  artist  s  personal 
experiments  and  discoveries. 

Finding  it  almost  impossible  to  obtain  the 
quality  of  execution  he  wanted  on  the  glass,  La 
Farge  made  experiments  with  the  material  itself, 
by  the  introduction  of  opalescent  qualities,  by  let¬ 
ting  the  colours  run  into  one  another,  .and  by 
twisting  and  flattening  the  glass  while  still  soft, 
obtaining  varied  and  graduated  tones.  The  twist¬ 
ing  of  the  glass  gave  also  creases  and  ridges  that 
could  be  utilized  in  expressing  drapery.  With 
these  qualities  of  material  at  his  disposal  Mr.  La 
Farge  conceived  the  idea  of  eliminating  altogether 
the  painting  on  glass,  except  for  faces  and  hands, 


STUDY  MODEL  OF  “WASHINGTON  AS  PRESIDENT” 
SUPPORTED  BY  THE  FIGURES  OF  WISDOM  AND  JUSTICE 
FOR  THE  RIGHT  PIER,  WASHINGTON  ARCH 
BY  ALEXANDER  STIRLING  CALDER  (PAGE  20/) 


WASHINGTON  SQUARE 


211 


thus  preserving  in  its  greatest  purity  the  trans¬ 
parency  and  brilliancy  of  the  colours,  and  at  the 
same  time  not  sacrificing  light  and  shade. 

This  method  has  been  criticized  as  “  substituting 
accident  for  design,”  since,  it  has  been  argued, 
the  only  part  of  the  design  which  it  leaves  com¬ 
pletely  under  the  control  of  the  artist  is  the  shape 
of  the  separate  pieces  of  glass  and,  therefore,  the 
leads  which  unite  these  and  form  the  chief  out¬ 
lines  in  stained  glass.  Any  lines  of  draperies  et 
cetera ,  within  these,  and  all  shadows  depend  abso¬ 
lutely  on  what  the  artist  can  find  in  the  accidents 
of  his  materials  that  will  approximately  suit  his 
purpose.* 

The  English  critics,  with  their  respect  for  tradi¬ 
tion,  felt  that  La  Farge’s  method  sacrificed  design 
for  colour.  While  there  may  be  some  truth  in 
this,  so  long  as  one  need  not  definitely  choose  for 
life  between  the  one  and  the  other,  La  Farge’s 
discovery  remains  an  important  contribution  to 
the  metier,  and  his  windows  hold  an  unique  place 
in  the  history  of  stained  glass. 

The  pleasant  old  garden-walled  house  on  the 
northwest  corner  of  Washington  Square  and  Fifth 
Avenue  preserves  intact  its  1830  character,  noth¬ 
ing  having  been  added  or  subtracted  since  it  first 

*  Henry  Holiday.  “  Stained  Glass  as  an  Art,”  p.  160. 


212  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


marked  the  gateway  of  the  incipient  avenue. 
James  Boorman’s  house  on  the  opposite  corner 
has  more  personal  interest  for  me.  His  niece  has 
made  it  live  for  me  in  her  conversations  and  letters 
about  old  New  York.  She  writes  of  her  sister 
having  been  sent  to  hoarding  school  at  Miss 
Green’s,  No.  1  Fifth  Avenue,  and  of  how  she  used 
to  comfort  herself,  in  her  homesickness  for  the 
family,  at  Scarborough-on-the-Hudson,  by  looking 
out  of  the  side  windows  of  her  prison  at  her  uncle, 
“  walking  in  his  flower  garden  in  the  rear  of  his 
house  on  Washington  Square.”  “  When  my  uncle 
built  his  house,”  writes  my  correspondent,  “  it  was 
all  open  country  behind  it.  My  mother  has  told 
me  of  attending  a  dinner-party  there,  soon  after 
my  uncle  moved  in,  and  of  looking  out  of  the  back 
windows  at  the  fields.” 

The  house  was  sold,  after  his  widow’s  death,  and 
joined  to  the  Duncan  house,  next  door;  and  the 
entrance  to  the  corner  house  was  made  into  a  bay 
window  and  others  were  added  to  the  Fifth  Ave¬ 
nue  side.  Mr.  Boorman  built  also  the  houses 
Nos.  1  and  3  Fifth  Avenue  (now  No.  1),  and 
in  the  rear  two  stables,  one  for  bis  own  use  and 
one  leased  to  Mrs.  Duncan.  These  were  the 
nucleus  of  the  lively  settlement  of  painters  and 
sculptors  that  now.  having  converted  the  stables 


WASHINGTON  SQUARE 


213 


into  picturesque  studios,  give  character  to  the 
neighbourhood.  Washington  Mews  and  Mc- 
Dougal  Alley  were  unheard-of  until  the  artists 
brought  them  into  notice. 

At  No.  1  Fifth  Avenue,  James  Boorman  *  es¬ 
tablished  his  only  sister,  Mrs.  Esther  Smith,  in  a 
select  school  for  young  ladies,  which  occupied  the 
two  houses,  Nos.  1  and  3,  joined  together,  and 
opened  in  1835.  This  was  an  old  established 
school,  having  started  in  1816  in  the  St.  John’s 
Park  neighbourhood. 

Miss  Green  came  from  Worcester,  Massachu¬ 
setts,  when  a  girl  of  eighteen,  to  be  a  teacher  in 
Mrs.  Smith’s  school;  and  she  and  her  sister  even¬ 
tually  succeeded  to  the  management.  Their 
brother,  Andrew  H.  Green,  called  the  “  father 
of  Greater  New  York,”  gave  his  advice  and  aid 
and,  in  1844,  taught  a  class  in  American  history. 
The  Union  Theological  Seminary,  on  Washington 
Square,  furnished  students  to  teach  history  and 
philosophy  courses,  and  amongst  the  distinguished 
men  who  lectured  in  Miss  Green’s  school  were 
Felix  Foresti,  professor  at  the  University  and  at 
Columbia  College,  Clarence  Cook,  Lyman  Abbott, 
and  Elihu  Root,  then  a  young  man,  fresh 

*  An  excellent  portrait  of  James  Boorman,  by  Rossiter,  hangs 
in  the  Chamber  of  Commerce,  of  which  the  sitter  was  a  member 
for  nearly  fifty  years. 


214  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


from  college.  John  Bigelow  taught  botany  at 
one  time,  and  John  Fiske  delivered  a  course  of 
lectures. 

Miss  Boorman  has  often  told  me  of  the  amuse¬ 
ment  that  the  shy  theological  students  and  other 
young  teachers  afforded  the  girls  in  their  classes, 
and  how  delighted  these  used  to  be  to  see  instruc¬ 
tors  fall  into  a  trap  which  was  unconsciously  pre¬ 
pared  for  them.  The  room  in  which  the  lectures 
were  given  had  two  doors,  side  by  side  and  exactly 
alike,  one  leading  into  the  hall  and  the  other  into 
a  closet.  The  young  men  having  concluded  their 
remarks,  and  feeling  some  relief  at  the  successful 
termination  of  the  ordeal,  would  tuck  their  books 
under  their  arms,  bow  gravely  to  the  class,  open 
the  door,  and  walk  briskly  into  the  closet.  Even 
Miss  Green’s  discipline  had  its  limits,  and  when  the 
lecturer  turned  to  find  the  proper  exit  he  had  to 
face  a  class  of  grinning  school  girls  not  much 
younger  than  himself,  to  his  endless  mortification. 
Elilui  Root  met  recently  at  a  dinner  a  lady  who 
asked  him  if  he  remembered  her  as  a  member  of 
his  class  at  Miss  Green’s  school.  “  Do  I  remem¬ 
ber  you?”  the  former  secretary  of  state  replied. 
“  You  are  one  of  those  girls  who  used  to  laugh  at 
me  when  I  had  to  walk  out  of  that  closet.” 

Lower  Fifth  Avenue  traverses  the  old  “  Minto  ” 


WASHINGTON  SQUARE 


215 


and  Brevoort  farms  which  adjoined  each  other, 
according  to  the  old  maps,  somewhere  about 
Tenth  Street  and  covered  the  territory  south  of 
Union  Square,  extending  east  to  about  Fourth 
Avenue.  The  lower  farm,  touching  Washington 
Square,  is  now  the  estate  of  the  Sailors’  Snug 
Harbour,  founded  by  Robert  Richard  Randall, 
who  when  about  to  die,  in  1801,  dictated  a  will 
leaving  twenty-one  acres  “  seeded  to  grass,”  con¬ 
stituting  the  Minto  farm,  for  the  establishment  of 
a  home  for  old  and  disabled  seamen.  This  was  in 
memory  of  his  father,  Captain  Thomas  Randall, 
the  commander  of  the  Fox,  a  freebooter  of  the 
seas,  who  in  later  life  became  a  wealthy  and  repu¬ 
table  merchant  in  Hanover  Street.  Captain  Ran¬ 
dall  was  coxswain  of  the  barge  crew  of  thirteen 
ships’  captains  who  rowed  General  Washington 
from  Elizabethtown  Point  to  New  York  for  his 
inauguration.  A  line  drawn  through  Astor  Place 
to  the  Washington  Arch,  up  Fifth  Avenue  to 
about  Tenth  Street,  with  Fourth  Avenue  as  an 
eastern  boundary,  would  roughly  outline  this  farm, 
which  Robert  Randall  added  to  the  land  inherited 
from  his  father,  in  1790,  paying  five  thousand 
pounds  for  a  property  now  worth  twice  as  many 
millions.  It  was  his  intention  that  the  mansion 
house  in  which  he  had  lived  should  be  converted 


216  A  LOITERER  IX  NEW  YORK 


into  the  snug  harbour,  and  the  surrounding  farm 
lands  cultivated  to  supply  the  inmates  with  fruit, 
vegetables,  and  grain,  according  to  their  require¬ 
ments.  The  relatives  contested  the  will  (made  by 
Alexander  Hamilton  and  Daniel  D.  Tompkins), 
and  only  after  many  years’  litigation  was  it  finally 
settled,  when  the  trustees  decided  to  lease  the  land 
and  purchase  the  Staten  Island  property,  where 
the  home  is  now  located.  This  land,  like  the 
grants  deeded  to  the  Trinity  corporation,  became 
leasehold  property  in  perpetuity,  a  fact  which  re¬ 
tarded  its  development  with  a  perceptible  effect 
upon  the  growth  of  the  city.  Recently  the  re¬ 
modelling  of  Washington  Mews  and  Eighth  Street 
as  an  artists’  quarter  has  made  changes  in  the  lo¬ 
cality  and  will  bring  many  artists  to  the  new  stu¬ 
dios. 

Hendrick  Brevoort’s  farm  has  left,  too,  its  in¬ 
delible  trace  upon  the  layout  of  the  city,  a  valor¬ 
ous  descendant  of  the  old  burgher  having  defied 
the  commissioners  to  destroy  his  homestead,  which 
lay  in  the  proposed  path  of  Broadway,  or  to  cut 
down  a  favourite  tree  which  blocked  the  intended 
course  of  Eleventh  Street.  He  is  said  to  have 
stood  at  his  threshold  with  a  blunderbuss  in  his 
trembling  old  hands,  when  the  workmen  arrived 
to  carry  out  their  instructions  to  demolish  the 


WASHINGTON  SQUARE 


217 


house;  and  to  have  carried  his  point  with  such 
thoroughness  that  Broadway  was  deflected  from 
its  course,  causing  the  present  bend  in  that  thor¬ 
oughfare  at  Tenth  Street,  while  Eleventh  Street 
between  Broadway  and  Fourth  Avenue  was  never 
completed.  Soon  after  the  first  attempt  to  violate 
his  property  Grace  Church  was  built  and  now  that 
its  rectory  and  garden  cover  the  disputed  territory 
it  is  not  likely  that  the  street  will  ever  he  cut 
through,  nor  Broadway  straightened. 

Grace  Church  in  Broadway  and  the  First  Pres¬ 
byterian  Church  in  Fifth  Avenue  were  built 
about  the  same  time,  following  the  establishment 
of  a  fashionable  centre  in  this  region.  Grace 
Church  was  built  by  James  Renwick,  Jr.,  the 
architect  of  St.  Patrick’s  Cathedral,  and  a  de¬ 
scendant  of  Henry  Brevoort,  in  1846.  It  contains 
many  souvenirs  of  old  New  York,  including  the 
corner-stone  of  the  original  church,  erected  in 
1806  at  Broadway  and  Rector  Street,  opposite 
Trinity,  and  a  stone  tablet  to  the  memory  of 
Henry  Brevoort  who  died  in  1841,  aged  ninety- 
four,  “  in  possession  of  the  ground  on  which  this 
church  now  stands.”  The  chancel  building,  re- 
redos,  east  window,  the  chantry  adjoining  Grace 
House,  and  the  greater  organ  were  erected  in 
1878-1882  by  Catherine  Lorillard  Wolf  in  memory 


218  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


of  her  father,  John  David  Wolf,  senior  warden 
of  the  church  at  the  time  of  his  death. 

On  the  Tenth  Street  corner  of  the  church  stood 
for  many  years  the  Fleischmann  restaurant  and 
bakery,  and  here  the  “  Bread  Line,”  only  recently 
suspended,  became  one  of  the  institutions  of  the 
city ;  the  firm  gave  away  every  night  the  bread  and 
rolls  unsold  during  the  day,  a  practical  charity 
much  appreciated.  Men,  women,  and  children 
stood  until  midnight  to  receive  their  dole  of  bread. 
This  bit  of  local  colour  was  swept  away  by  the 
recent  improvement  to  the  exterior  of  the  church, 
by  which  Huntington  Close,  with  its  open-air 
pulpit,  was  opened  and  dedicated  to  the  memory 
of  William  Reed  Huntington,  for  twenty-five 
years  rector  of  the  parish.  Always  deeply  in¬ 
terested  in  beautifying  the  church,  and  with  the 
hope  of  preserving  it  for  years  to  come,  it  was 
Dr.  Huntington  who  planned  this  outside  pulpit, 
with  its  garden  enclosure  for  summer  services,  to 
meet  the  altered  conditions  under  which  the  fine 
old  church  now  stands,  hoping  to  prolong  its 
active  life.  The  Beatitudes  form  the  subject 
of  the  elaborately  carved  pulpit,  designed  by 
William  Renwick,  architect,  and  Jules  Edouard 
Roine,  sculptor. 

Another  Henry  Brevoort,  a  descendant  of  the 


Copyright  by  John  La  Farge 


"THE  ASCENSION/'  MURAL  PAINTING  BY  JOHN  I.A  FARGE 

IN  THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  ASCENSION 

FIFTH  AVENUE  AND  TENTH  STREET  (PAGE  209) 


WASHINGTON  SQUARE 


219 


original  proprietor  of  the  farm  in  New  Nether- 
land,  built  the  substantial  old  double  house  at  the 
comer  of  Ninth  Street  and  Fifth  Avenue,  which 
preserves  its  fine  iron  balconies,  its  pillared  door, 
within  a  small  green  enclosure,  and  a  walled  gar¬ 
den  to  one  side.  Across  the  way  the  Brevoort 
House  maintains  the  name,  distinguished  in  these 
parts,  and  brings  a  distinct  French  flavour  into 
the  avenue,  the  house  being  famous  for  its  cuisine, 
and  largely  patronized  by  the  transient  French 
population  of  the  city.  The  first  masked  ball 
given  in  New  York  was  held  in  1840  in  the  house 
of  Henry  Brevoort,  an  affair  long  held  in  dis¬ 
repute  by  society  on  account  of  the  occasion  it 
furnished  Miss  Mathilda  Barclay,  the  beautiful 
daughter  of  Anthony  Barclay,  the  British  consul, 
to  elope  in  fancy  dress,  domino,  and  mask  with 
young  Burgwyne  of  South  Carolina,  of  whom  her 
parents  strongly  disapproved.  She  went  as  Lalla 
Rookh  and  he  as  Feramorz,  and  in  this  disguise 
they  slipped  away  from  the  ball,  at  four  o’clock 
in  the  morning,  and  were  married.  Anthony  Bar¬ 
clay  was  later  dismissed  for  raising  recruits  dur¬ 
ing  the  Crimean  War. 

At  Twelfth  Street  the  avenue  undergoes  an 
abrupt  change — no  more  fine  doorways,  no  more 
grills,  gardens,  or  churches;  but  instead,  a  barren 


220  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


skyscraper  marks  abruptly  the  line  of  demarca¬ 
tion,  and  opposite  a  vacancy  with  remnants  of  a 
handsome  iron  fence  and  garden  extending  beyond 
the  boarded-up  empty  lot  where  once  stood  a  pala¬ 
tial  mansion,  torn  down,  it  is  said,  to  save  taxes. 

As  first  laid  out,  Fifth  Avenue  was  one  hundred 
feet  wide,  providing  for  a  roadway  of  sixty  feet 
and  sidewalks  of  twenty,  hut  in  1833  and  1814 
the  city  gave  property  owners  permission  to  en¬ 
croach  fifteen  feet  for  steps,  courtyards,  and  por¬ 
ticoes,  of  which  we  have  so  many  ornamental 
examples  all  through  the  lower  part  of  the  avenue 
and  the  side  streets  that  open  from  it.  As  traffic 
grew,  congestion  increased,  and  against  the  most 
emphatic  protest  from  owners  of  private  and  busi¬ 
ness  buildings  in  behalf  of  their  handsome  en¬ 
trances  and  areas,  these  were  ordered  removed  in 
1908,  and  the  street  widened  to  its  originally 
planned  dimensions.  For  some  beneficent  reason 
this  was  not  carried  out  below  Thirteenth  Street, 
where  the  difference  in  the  width  of  the  roadway 
may  he  noticed,  hut  above  this  line  the  destruction 
to  property  by  the  ordinance  was  lamentable.  One 
could  quite  understand  a  testy  proprietor,  upon 
receipt  of  a  notice  so  disastrous  to  his  property, 
tearing  down  the  whole  affronted  edifice  in  pref¬ 
erence  to  spoiling  his  house,  and  there  is  so  much 


WASHINGTON  SQUARE 


221 


temper  displayed  in  the  aspect  of  the  demolition 
at  Twelfth  Street,  that  one  likes  to  think  this  the 
explanation. 

Proprietors  met  this  order  as  best  they  might, 
and  took  off  their  “  encroachments  ”  obediently, 
suppressing  the  pretty  grass  plots  and  hand- 
wrought  iron  fences  and  balconies;  eliminating  the 
characteristic  “  stoop  ”  leading  to  the  salon  story, 
and,  for  the  most  part,  making  the  entrance  duck 
under  the  sidewalk  into  the  former  area  door,  and 
reconstructing  that  subterranean  passage  into  a 
more  adequate  approach  for  the  foot  of  quality. 
This  accounts  for  the  snubbed  appearance  of  the 
facades  all  the  way  up  the  avenue,  where  houses, 
shorn  of  their  grace,  stand  flush  with  the  building 
line,  in  uncompromising  severity. 

The  old  Van  Beuren  house,  standing  isolated  in 
its  spacious  garden  in  West  Fourteenth  Street, 
suffered  a  similar  indignity,  when  that  thorough¬ 
fare  was  widened  and  became  the  shopping  centre 
of  the  city.  This  was  the  second  mansion  of  the 
Spingler  estate  which  adjoined  the  Brevoort  farm 
and  part  of  which  is  now  covered  by  Union 
Square.  Most  of  the  property  was  inherited  by 
Mary  S.  Van  Beuren,  Spingler’s  granddaughter. 
She  built  the  brown-stone  front  house  and  lived 
there  for  years,  raising  flowers  and  vegetables  in 


222  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


the  garden  and  keeping  a  cow  and  chickens.  Ab¬ 
surd  as  this  sounds  in  the  heart  of  Fourteenth 
Street,  there  is  nothing  about  the  present  aspect 
of  the  neglected  garden  to  preclude  the  idea  of  a 
suburban  farm,  though  the  house  has  pretensions. 


XI 


GRAMERCY  PARK 

Literary  and  historic  memories  crowd  the 
quarter  lying  east  of  Union  and  Madison  Squares, 
where  many  old  landmarks  stand  in  a  fair  state 
of  preservation.  Fortunately  the  neighborhood 
still  commends  itself  to  the  domain  of  arts  and 
letters,  whose  fraternity  has  established  clubs  in 
the  grander  houses,  or  “  improved  ”  modest  dwell¬ 
ings  along  the  lines  of  good  taste,  keeping  to  the 
original  character.  Nineteenth  Street  is  an  in¬ 
teresting  example  of  what  can  be  done  to  restore 
decaying  neighbourhoods,  its  regeneration  having 
been  undertaken  by  Frederick  Sterner,  architect, 
some  years  back,  with  the  result  now  so  happily 
demonstrated. 

Rambles  in  the  old  quarter  are  attended  by  a 
confusion  of  sentiments  in  which,  perhaps,  in  the 
presence  of  things  changed  so  little  while  changed 
so  much,  a  pervading  tristesse  is  the  dominant 
note.  In  so  many  cases  all  the  shell  of  what  was 
once  so  fine,  so  warm,  so  comfortable,  is  there — 


223 


224  A  LOITERER  IX  NEW  YORK 


while  the  traditions,  the  personalities,  are  gone 
irrevocably.  We  must  remember,  in  our  wander¬ 
ings,  that  the  old  Boston  Post  Road  opened  this 
part  of  the  island  at  an  early  date,  so  that  the 
land  hereabouts  must  have  been  considered  very 
desirable  for  dwellings  and  farms,  being  along  the 
central  highway  of  the  advancing  city.  Stuyve- 
sant  Square  and  Gramercv  Park  were  laid  out 
at  about  the  same  time  that  Washington  Square 
was  developed  as  a  place  of  fashionable  residence; 
and,  being  private  parks,  after  the  style  of  Bed¬ 
ford  and  Russell  Squares,  in  London,  kept  under 
lock  and  key,  and  dedicated  exclusively  to  the  uses 
of  the  property  holders  whose  houses  faced  them, 
attracted  the  best  class  of  tenants  that  Xew  York, 
in  those  days,  afforded. 

Stuyvesant  Square,  originally  part  of  Peter 
Stuyvesant’s  bouxveric,  has  been  turned  over  to  the 
proletariat,  and  the  environment  has  suffered  a 
gentle  decadence,  whose  erstwhile  dignity  is  still 
brooded  over  by  the  ponderous  Church  of  St. 
George,  standing  high,  dark,  and  imposing  on  the 
western  side,  dating  from  about  1845.  The  church 
contains  an  elaborate  pulpit  erected  to  the  memory 
of  J.  Pierpont  Morgan,  who  belonged  to  the  parish 
for  over  fifty  years,  and  was  warden  of  the  church 
from  1885  until  his  death,  in  1913.  William  M. 


GRAMERCY  PARK 


225 


Chase’s  home  stands  on  the  south  side  of  the 
square;  he  was  buried  from  St.  George’s  on 
October  27,  1916. 

Down  in  the  old  City  Hall  is  preserved  in  the 
Governor’s  Room  a  beautiful  portrait  of  James 
Duane,  painted  by  John  Trumbull,  for  the  city, 
in  1805.  This  canvas  shows  the  head  and  shoul¬ 
ders  of  a  gentleman  with  long  powdered  hair, 
curling  at  the  ends;  the  face  is  turned  to  the  left 
and  the  keen,  dark  eyes  look  straight  ahead. 
When  James  Duane  was  mayor  of  New  York  his 
country  estate  was  a  twenty-acre  farm,  lying  along 
the  Boston  Post  Road,  and  known  as  Gramercy 
Seat.  Innes  says  that  the  name,  Gramercy,  was 
the  English  rendering  of  Krom  merssche,  or  Krom 
moerasje,  by  which  the  Dutch  indicated  the 
“  crooked  little  swamp  ”  drained  by  Cedar  Creek, 
which  flowed  from  what  is  now  Madison  Square 
and  emptied  into  the  East  River.  Later  the  prop¬ 
erty  came  into  the  possession  of  Samuel  Ruggles, 
and  he,  being  keenly  interested  in  the  development 
of  the  city,  presented  this  choice  little  spot  of  land, 
now  known  as  Gramercy  Park,  in  trust,  to  the 
sixty  lot  owners  whose  property  faced  it.  Accord¬ 
ing  to  the  deed,  they  were  to  surround  the  plot 
with  an  iron  railing  with  ornamental  gates,  and 
by  January,  1834,  to  lay  out  the  grounds  and  plant 


226  A  LOITERER  IX  NEW  YORK 


trees.  The  tenants  thus  benefited  were  then  to 
have  access  to  the  park  for  recreation,  on  payment 
of  an  annual  fee  of  ten  dollars.  Since  the  destruc¬ 
tion  of  St.  John’s  Park,  this  is  the  only  private 
enclosure  of  the  kind  left  in  Xew  York.  It  is 
still  maintained  by  the  tenants  in  the  immediate 
vicinity'. 

Gramercy  Park,  in  its  palmyr  days,  was  sur¬ 
rounded  byr  the  private  dwellings  of  many'  notable 
people.  The  oldest  house,  facing  the  enclosure,  is 
said  to  be  that  of  the  late  James  W.  Gerard,  an 
eminent  lawyer  of  the  last  century,  and  active  in 
public  affairs.  Philip  Hone’s  Diary'  speaks  of 
him  often,  giving  an  intimate  picture  of  a  charm¬ 
ing  and  cultivated  gentleman.  Amongst  other 
public  services  he  secured  the  incorporation  of  the 
House  of  Refuge  for  Juvenile  Delinquents,  in 
1824;  and  having  accomplished  that,  devoted  him¬ 
self  to  costuming  the  police  or  “  watchmen  ”  of 
the  city',  who  up  to  this  time  wore  no  uniforms, 
and  could  only'  be  identified  by’  means  of  a  small 
metal  badge,  worn  under  the  lapel  of  the  coat. 
Mr.  Gerard  wore  the  new  uniform,  which  his  per¬ 
sistency'  had  caused  to  be  adopted,  at  a  fancy’-dress 
ball  given  by'  Mrs.  Coventry'  Waddell,  of  Murray7 
Hill,  in  the  Italian  villa  where  Thackeray  was  en¬ 
tertained.  The  Gerard  house  stands  exteriorly' 


GRAMERCY  PARK 


227 


intact  on  the  south  side  of  the  square,  joining  the 
original  habitation  of  the  Players’  Club,  of  which 
it  is  now  part. 

The  Players’  Club  House,  the  former  residence 
of  Valentine  G.  Hall,  was  purchased  in  1888,  by 
Edwin  Booth,  who  remodelled  and  furnished  it, 
and  presented  it  to  actors  and  friends  of  the  drama 
as  “  The  Players.”  Booth  made  his  home  at 
the  Players’  from  the  date  of  its  opening  until 
his  death,  which  took  place  in  this  house,  June  7, 
1898.  Among  the  first  directors  of  the  club  were 
Laurence  Hutton,  Edwin  Booth,  Lawrence  Bar¬ 
rett,  Brander  Matthews,  and  William  Bispham. 

The  club’s  miscellaneous  collection  of  pictures 
includes  three  handsome  portraits  by  Sargent — 
Booth,  Barrett,  and  Joseph  Jefferson.  Booth  is 
painted  in  the  character  of  Henry  IV,  and  it  was 
Sargent’s  intention,  as  well  as  the  wish  of  the  club 
to  preserve  in  the  portrait  of  Jefferson  a  picture 
of  that  actor  in  his  famous  role,  Rip  Van  Winkle. 
Jefferson  posed  in  costume  during  a  long  and  try¬ 
ing  series  of  sittings,  but  the  painter  was  never 
satisfied  with  the  result.  One  day  at  luncheon 
both  came  in  from  a  seance  in  an  unusual  state  of 
nerves,  and  Mrs.  Bartlett,  who  was  present,  tried 
to  relieve  Sargent’s  gloom  by  the  suggestion  that 
upon  seeing  the  portrait  again,  with  a  fresh  eye, 


228  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


he  would  agree  with  every  one  present  in  complete 
satisfaction  with  the  result.  Sargent  turned  to 
her  and  announced  impressively:  “  I  shall  never 
see  it  again.”  There  was  an  emphatic  silence  in 
which  Jefferson  realized  the  significance  of  this 
peculiar  speech — that  the  painter  had  destroyed 
the  product  of  their  combined  labours.  “  Then,” 
said  he,  “  you  will  never  see  me  like  that  again.” 
True  to  his  word  he  posed  again  only  for  the 
head,  and  this,  owned  by  the  Players,  is  a  masterly 
Sargent. 

The  fine  example  of  Stuart  owned  by  the 
Players  is  a  portrait  of  Thomas  Abthorpe  Cooper, 
an  actor  of  note  in  the  early  nineteenth  century, 
presented  to  the  club  by  his  granddaughter,  Mrs. 
Louise  Fairleigh  Cooper.  The  mural  paintings 
in  the  club  are  by  Edward  Simmons. 

The  National  Arts  Club  now  occupies  the  for¬ 
mer  residence  of  Samuel  J.  Tilden,  adjoining 
the  Players’.  It  is  readily  distinguished  for  its 
curious  facade,  added  when  Mr.  Tilden  bought 
the  two  houses,  which  it  joins  together.  It  is  a 
refined  example  of  what  was  considered  the  quin¬ 
tessence  of  elegance  in  those  days,  and  was  much 
admired  for  its  sculptured  front;  everything  about 
it — the  style  of  its  iron  work,  the  rosettes  in  the 
ornament,  the  variations  in  colour,  the  bay  win- 


GRAMERCY  PARK 


229 


dows,  and  the  pointed  doorway  and  windows — 
suggests  the  Centennial  period  of  domestic  archi¬ 
tecture,  considered  a  vast  improvement  over  the 
Georgian,  which  it  succeeded  and  in  this  case  re¬ 
placed.  All  the  appointments  of  the  interior  were 
good  and  durable  and  on  a  handsome  scale,  for 
Mr.  Tilden  was  a  man  of  culture  and  wealth. 
When  he  died  one  of  his  bequests  was  $2,000,000 
to  the  New  York  Public  Library,  to  which  he 
added  his  library,  consisting  of  20,000  volumes. 

For  thirteen  years  before  he  ran  for  President, 
Tilden  was  chairman  of  the  Democratic  State 
Committee  of  New  York.  Nominated  for  Presi¬ 
dent  to  succeed  Grant,  in  1876,  he  received  a  ma¬ 
jority  of  the  popular  vote,  but,  owing  to  the  fact 
that  the  votes  of  several  states  were  disputed, 
the  electoral  commission,  consisting  of  senators, 
judges,  and  representatives,  was  appointed,  and 
this  commission  divided  on  party  lines  and  gave 
the  disputed  votes  to  Hayes.  There  seems  to  be 
but  little  doubt  that  Tilden  was  elected,  but  party 
feeling  was  so  strong  it  was  feared  that,  had 
he  been  sustained,  another  civil  war  would  have 
resulted. 

The  gardens  in  the  rear  of  the  Tilden  house 
were  the  largest  in  the  row,  extending  through  the 
block  to  Nineteenth  Street,  and  were  charmingly 


230  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


laid  out  with  box-bordered  walks  and  flower-beds, 
and  shaded  by  large  trees.  When  the  National 
Arts  Club  took  over  the  property  their  extensions 
covered  the  gardens,  providing  extensive  gallery 
space  for  exhibitions,  which  form  a  useful  part  of 
the  club’s  work.  The  permanent  collection  is 
composed  of  paintings  and  sculpture  contributed 
by  members. 

Stanford  White  lived  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
square  in  the  house  now  occupied  by  the  Prince¬ 
ton  Club.  Vines  and  a  hedge  mitigate  the  severity 
of  its  Georgian  style,  that  must,  however,  have 
been  pleasing  to  an  architect. 

Facetious  New  Yorkers  dubbed  the  striped  All 
Souls’  Church,  of  Unitarian  denomination,  the 
Church  of  the  Holy  Zebra,  when  it  first  made  its 
unusual  appearance  just  off  Gramercy  Park. 
This  was  in  the  year  1854,  long  before  New  York 
had  become  accustomed  to  see  planted,  on  her  stern 
rock  foundations,  those  exotics  that  now  bloom 
so  easily  in  the  strong  sea-light  of  the  island  city. 
This  medium  Henry  James,  with  great  felicity  of 
expression,  compares  in  abundance  to  “  some  ample 
childless  mother  who  consoles  herself  for  her  ste¬ 
rility  by  an  unbridled  course  of  adoption.”  The 
idea  is  very  quaint  and  one  seems  to  feel  how  loose 
a  rein  she  gave  herself  in  selecting,  as  her  first 


GRAMERCY  PARK 


231 


adoptive  infant,  this  very  positive  foreigner,  this 
Basilica  di  San  Gio  Battista  in  Monza,  this  dis¬ 
tinct  type  of  northern  Italian  architecture,  the 
enthusiastic  product  of  an  ambitious  architect, 
Jacob  Wrey  Mould. 

Jacob  Wrey  Mould  was  an  Englishman,  poor 
fellow.  Not  “  poor  fellow  ”  because  he  was 
English,  but  because  nobody  connected  with  the 
church,  in  those  days,  seems  to  have  appreciated 
him,  except  the  president  of  the  trustees,  Moses 
H.  Grinnell,  whom  the  pastor,  Dr.  Bellows,  im¬ 
patiently  considered  “  bewitched  by  the  architect.” 
By  this  we  learn  how  earnest  a  partisan  of  the 
beautiful  was  this  sterling  old  merchant  of  the 
last  century.  He  alone  had  faith  in  the  architect 
and  his  plan,  and  his  method  of  meeting  financial 
difficulties  in  the  way  of  its  construction  was  to 
put  his  hand  into  his  own  pocket,  and  postpone 
the  pressure  to  a  more  convenient  season  for  those 
upon  whom  it  was  ultimately  to  fall.  By  this 
means,  and  in  spite  of  themselves,  so  to  speak, 
the  “  most  generous,  ardent,  and  hopeful  of  men,” 
as  Dr.  Bellows  is  constrained  in  justice  to  de¬ 
scribe  him  (though  one  can  see  he  sorely  tried 
the  practical  clergyman,  intent  upon  housing  the 
largest  number  of  souls  at  the  minimum  expense), 
secured  to  the  congregation  a  handsome  edifice, 


232  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


and  supported  the  ideals  of  an  architect  who  was 
only  too  evidently  a  “  character,”  who  had  all  the 
human  failings  of  his  profession — the  optimism, 
the  pride  in  his  creation,  and  the  plausible  esti¬ 
mates  of  expense.  All  of  these  the  man  of  God 
resented;  and  all  of  these  Moses  Grinnell  under¬ 
stood.  We  feel  the  reflection  of  her  father’s 
impatience  in  Miss  Bellows’  allusion  to  Mould 
as  “  what  one  might  call  a  talented  spendthrift. 
Peace  be  to  his  remains!”  But  she  found  the 
church  handsome  and  unique,  though  it  excited 
much  derisive  comment  and  received  many  nick¬ 
names.  “  I  thought  the  complicated  and  some¬ 
what  mysterious  and  inconvenient  parsonage  de¬ 
lightful,”  she  tells  us,  “but”  (laconically)  “my 
mother  did  not” 

Caen  stone  and  red  brick  laid  alternately  in 
horizontal  courses  followed  the  Italian  model 
with  an  effect  that  no  longer  seems  strange  to 
us;  but  it  shocked  the  city  and  the  congregation. 
The  latter  felt  the  absurdity  of  their  white 
elephant  the  more  keenly  when  the  final  reckon¬ 
ing  came  and  it  was  found  that  the  architect  had 
exceeded  his  contract  for  the  church  and  parson¬ 
age  by  some  $48,000;  yet,  notwithstanding  this 
unexpected  drain  upon  its  resources,  the  brave 
congregation  voted  the  sum  set  aside  for  the 


RELIEF  OF  HENRY  WHITNEY  BELLOWS,  ALL  SOULS'  CHURCH 
BY  AUGUSTUS  SAINT-GAUDENS  (PAGE  235) 


GRAMERCY  PARK 


233 


erection  of  the  lofty  campanile,  that  should  have 
completed  the  replica  of  its  Umbrian  prototype, 
for  the  work  of  the  United  States  Sanitary  Com¬ 
mission,  during  the  Civil  War,  of  which  its 
pastor,  Henry  Whitney  Bellows,  was  both 
founder  and  president.  The  church  preserves 
elaborate  drawings  of  both  San  Gio  Battista  and 
All  Souls  with  the  campanile  as  intended  by  the 
architect,  a  feature  which  added  greatly  to  the 
effect  of  the  ensemble. 

Dr.  Bellows’  immense  vitality  found  vent  in 
many  directions  for  the  public  good.  He  be¬ 
longed  to  the  epoch  of  pulpit  oratory,  and  his 
extemporaneous  speech  was  noted  for  its  lucidity 
and  style.  He  was  a  successful  champion  of  lost 
causes  and  he  made  his  pulpit  the  medium  for 
influencing  and  moulding  public  opinion.  His 
defence  of  the  theatre,  in  which  he  appeared  as 
a  vindicator  of  the  drama  as  a  public  necessity, 
had  a  wide,  fruitful  influence.  It  disabused  many 
consciences  of  morbid  and  false  sentiments,  and 
it  helped  to  put  the  drama  on  a  new  footing. 
When  the  Civil  War  broke  out  Dr.  Bellows 
staked  everything  upon  his  belief  in  the  church’s 
duty  to  support  the  government  with  all  its 
power,  awaking  in  his  congregation,  by  sheer 
force  of  eloquence,  a  state  of  united  and  un- 


234  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


qualified  loyalty  that  carried  its  members  into  the 
most  important  work  in  its  history. 

Bellows’  great  enterprise,  the  Sanitary  Com¬ 
mission,  the  precursor  of  the  Red  Cross  Society, 
engrossed  him  throughout  the  war;  twenty  mil¬ 
lions  of  dollars  in  money  or  stores  passed  through 
his  hands;  his  associates  served  on  over  six  hun¬ 
dred  battlefields,  including  skirmishes,  and  in¬ 
numerable  hospitals,  camps,  and  soldiers’  homes. 
Besides  this  the  commission  collected  and  paid 
over  twelve  million  dollars’  worth  of  soldiers’ 
claims,  otherwise  irrevocable.  Eighteen  years 
after  the  outbreak  of  the  Civil  War,  Dr.  Bellows 
made  over  the  archives  of  his  work  to  the  Astor 
Library,  to  be  handed  down  in  memory  of  the 
largest  voluntary  charity  in  history  for  the  use 
of  future  generations. 

Dr.  Bellows  remained  pastor  of  All  Souls’  for 
forty-three  years,  but  notwithstanding  his  long 
sendee  and  his  full  record  of  activity  he  died 
a  comparatively  young  man,  not  having  attained 
his  sixty-eighth  year.  Four  years  after  his  death 
his  congregation  erected  the  intensely  virile  por¬ 
trait  by  Augustus  Saint  Gaudens,  placed  in  the 
church  in  June,  1886. 

Unfortunately  hedged  in  and  deprived  of  day¬ 
light,  the  interior  can  be  seen  only  inadequately, 


GRAMERCY  PARK 


235 


and,  except  during  service,  through  the  com¬ 
plaisance  of  the  most  efficient  coloured  sexton. 
One  enters  through  Dr.  Bellows’  house,  now 
transformed  into  a  church  house  and  a  hive  of 
useful  activities.  One  is  often  surprised,  in  a 
heartless  metropolis,  at  the  individual  attention, 
almost  provincial  in  its  kindness  and  thorough¬ 
ness,  with  which  a  stranger  is  sometimes  re¬ 
ceived,  especially  when  externals  are  forbidding. 
All  Souls’  Church  looks,  on  the  week-day,  neg¬ 
lected  and  shabby.  Its  stone  work  is  scaling  off, 
its  garden  is  overgrown,  and  its  gates  padlocked 
and  rusty.  One  hesitates  to  seek  admittance,  even 
in  quest  of  Saint  Gaudens’  matchless  relief  of  the 
former  pastor,  the  chef  d* oeuvre  of  its  interior. 
But  at  the  church  house  one  is  received  with 
genial  hospitality,  and  informed,  piloted,  person¬ 
ally  conducted,  and  illuminated  by  one  of  the 
best  qualified  custodians  of  the  many  churches 
visited  in  one’s  rounds  of  New  York;  and  were 
this  a  Baedecker,  I  should  double  star  that 
amiable  sexton  of  All  Souls’  Church,  as  guide, 
philosopher,  and  friend. 

The  memorial  to  Dr.  Bellows,  placed  to  the 
left  of  the  pulpit,  is  in  the  form  of  a  life-size, 
full-length  figure,  in  comparatively  high  relief, 
against  a  lettered  and  delicately  decorated  back- 


236  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


ground.  The  subject,  dressed  in  ample  official 
robes,  stands,  presenting  a  three-quarter  view  to 
the  spectator.  Renaissance  ornament  surrounds 
the  bronze  tablet,  of  which  the  whole  arrange¬ 
ment  is  perhaps  the  most  eloquent  example  of 
Saint  Gaudens’  great  professional  prowess  not 
only  as  technician,  though  that  is  indeed  supreme 
in  this  monument,  but  as  psychologist,  revealing 
with  unusual  fluency  the  character,  the  force,  the 
style,  the  ensemble  of  a  man,  great  in  a  very 
special  field  of  action. 

The  neighbourhood  is  rich  hereabout  in  ghosts 
of  faded  memories  for  those  who  have  courage 
for  the  disillusion  that  each  and  every  identified 
home  of  cherished  literary  memory  presents.  If 
Washington  Irving’s  house — poor  derelict — seems 
desorienti,  distracted,  in  its  abandonment  on  the 
ragged  edge  of  skyscraping  invasion,  how  much 
less  suggestive  of  belles  lettres  is  that  dismal 
apartment  house,  “remodelled  on  the  French 
plan,”  pointed  out  as  Bayard  Taylor’s  resi¬ 
dence;  or  the  Carey  sisters’  home,  or  the  house 
where  Horace  Greeley  lived!  If  Henry  James 
felt  the  melancholy  check  and  snub  to  the  felici¬ 
ties  of  his  backward  reach  “  in  the  presence,  so  to 
speak,  of  the  rudely,  the  ruthlessly  suppressed 
birth  house  ’  in  Washington  Square,  what  are  we 


GRAMERCY  PARK 


237 


to  suppose  must  be  Mr.  Theodore  Roosevelt’s 
emotions  when  he  regards  that  terrible  travesty 
in  Twentieth  Street,  its  entire  face  opened  to 
the  vulgar  gaze,  its  discreet  brown-stone  features 
annihilated  by  the  flagrant  burst  of  plate  glass 
from  loft  to  basement,  across  which  reads  the 
lurid  inscription — “  Theodore  Roosevelt  was  born 
in  this  house.” 

In  still  another  of  the  transverse  thorough¬ 
fares  a  to-let  sign  is  the  only  distinguishing  in¬ 
signia  of  the  once  charming  abode  of  William 
Cullen  Bryant,  while  the  Cruger  Mansion,  the 
birthplace  of  the  Metropolitan  Museum,  is  now 
levelled  to  the  democratic  uses  of  the  Salvation 
Army. 

Assuredly  oblivion  is  better  than  this. 


XII 


UNION  AND  MADISON  SQUARES 

In  its  present  state  of  stupid  decadence  it  is 
hard,  even  for  one  who  knew  it  in  its  prime,  to 
visualize  Union  Square  as  it  was  not  more  than 
a  quarter  of  a  century  ago,  the  very  acme  of 
fashionable  shopping  districts  for  the  wealthy 
residents  of  Fifth  Avenue,  whose  homes  are  now 
obliterated  by  the  prevailing  “  loft  ”  buildings 
from  Twelfth  Street  to  Madison  Square.  “  In 
those  days  ”  the  shopper  left  Fifth  Avenue  at 
Madison  Square  and  followed  Broadway  to  the 
cluster  of  big  shops  that  faced  the  square  or 
lined  its  approach.  The  atmosphere  of  the  place 
was  gay  and  charming,  somewhat  after  the 
fashion  of  Tremont  Street  in  Boston,  which 
gains  colour  and  vivacity  from  the  Common.  So 
Union  Square,  with  its  green  grass,  its  fountain 
playing  in  the  centre,  its  equestrian  statue  of 
Washington,  and  its  horses  and  carriages  stand¬ 
ing  before  fine  shops,  had  distinctly  an  air.  At 
night,  too,  during  the  season,  the  place  was  ani- 

238 


UNION  AND  MADISON  SQUARES  239 


mated,  for  the  Academy  of  Music  at  Fourteenth 
Street  and  Irving  Place  was  the  opera  house,  and 
Wallack’s  Theatre  stood  just  below  the  square, 
on  Broadway. 

Tiffany  moved  to  Union  Square  from  Broome 
Street  in  1870,  remaining  until  1905,  when  that 
shop  was  again  a  pioneer  in  the  movement  which 
carried  the  exclusive  trade  into  the  upper  reaches 
of  Fifth  Avenue.  The  publishing  houses  of 
Schirmer  and  Ditson  were  installed  here  during 
these  palmy  days,  and  the  Gorham  Company, 
Vantine’s,  and  many  of  the  better  class  depart¬ 
ment  stores  were  located  in  Broadway  beyond 
the  square.  Rounding  “  Dead  Man’s  Curve,” 
which  led  into  the  deep  mysteries  of  the  “  way 
downtown  ”  section  of  Broadway,  was  one  of 
the  adventures  of  surface  travel,  when  the  cable 
road  was  built.  The  cars  used  to  take  the  double 
curve  from  the  west  side  of  Union  Square  into 
Broadway  at  full  speed,  on  the  theory  that  it 
was  impossible  to  let  go  and  grip  the  cable  again 
while  the  car  was  on  the  curve.  This,  for  a  long 
time,  the  authorities  believed,  and  the  innumer¬ 
able  resulting  accidents  were  supposed  to  be  un¬ 
avoidable  and  gave  rise  to  the  lugubrious  title. 

Some  patching  in  the  city  plan  is  felt  at  Union 
Square.  In  colonial  days  the  Bowery  followed 


240  A  LOITERER  IX  NEW  YORK 


the  present  line  of  Fourth  Avenue  from  Fourth 
Street  to  Union  Square,  where  it  turned,  in 
passing  the  space  now  devoted  to  the  park,  and 
pursued  a  course  due  north.  From  this  turn, 
at  about  Seventeenth  Street,  it  was  called  the 
Bloomingdale  Road,  since  its  objective  point  was 
the  old  Dutch  hamlet  of  Bloemendaal — famous 
for  its  horticultural  nurseries — not  far  from 
Haarlem.  Here  were  farms  and  country  seats 
of  wealthy  citizens,  overlooking  the  Hudson. 
When  Broadway  wras  developed  from  Hendrick 
Brevoort’s  house,  it  was  bent  to  the  left  so  as  to 
connect  with  the  old  Bloomingdale  Road,  now 
upper  Broadway. 

When  the  Croton  Reservoir  was  built,  in  1842, 
on  the  site  now  occupied  by  the  Public  Library, 
one  of  its  first  extravagances  was  to  supply  the 
fountain  in  Union  Square  with  water.  This  was 
the  first  attempt  to  beautify  the  square,  which  the 
grudging  commissioners  had  left  merely  because 
so  many  streets  intersected  at  this  point  that 
it  seemed  the  simplest  solution  of  the  tangle. 

The  majestic  equestrian  statue  of  Washington 
that  so  superbly  dominates  Union  Square  was  a 
gift  to  the  city  from  its  merchants,  the  fund  being 
raised  by  subscriptions  of  four  hundred  dollars 
each,  through  the  earnest  efforts  of  Colonel  Lee. 


EQUESTRIAN  STATUE  OF  WASHINGTON,  UNION  SQUARE 
HENRY  KIRKE  BROWN,  SCULPTOR  (PAGE  242) 


UNION  AND  MADISON  SQUARES  241 


Horatio  Greenough,  our  first  professional  sculp¬ 
tor,  he  who  made  the  classic  marble  of  Washing¬ 
ton  for  the  Capitol,  projected  the  scheme  of  this 
equestrian  statue  and  was  to  have  undertaken  the 
work  with  Henry  Kirke  Brown,  but  after  having 
done  much  to  arouse  enthusiasm  and  promote 
subscriptions,  finally  abandoned  the  enterprise. 

Considered  a  great  achievement  in  its  day,  and 
the  first  equestrian  to  be  erected  in  New  York 
since  the  destruction  of  the  statue  of  George  III, 
in  Bowling  Green,  it  still  remains  one  of  the  best 
in  the  country.  One  other,  only,  is  older,  that 
of  Jackson,  by  Clark  Mills,  which  stands  before 
the  White  House  in  Washington,  finished  in 
1853. 

Greenough  was  a  confirmed  classicist,  having, 
under  the  tutelage  of  Thorwaldsen,  allied  himself 
with  the  classic  revival  in  sculpture  in  Italy.  Had 
he  carried  out  the  statue,  he  would  surely  have 
made  our  American  hero  look  like  Caesar,  Marcus 
Aurelius,  or  Apollo  Belvidere,  as  was  the  custom 
in  his  world  of  ideality.  But  Kirke  Brown  was 
of  different  stuff,  and  his  work  was  an  important 
development  of  what  had  remained  to  his  day 
an  alien  art.  He  was  in  reality  the  first  American 
sculptor,  the  first,  that  is  to  say,  to  express  some¬ 
thing  essentially  national,  and  he  owed  less  to 


242  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Europe  than  did  any  of  his  predecessors  and 
colleagues  who  modelled  figures. 

He  began  his  career  as  a  portrait  painter, 
studying  in  Boston  under  Chester  Harding  at 
the  age  of  eighteen,  but  soon  gave  up  painting 
for  sculpture,  keeping  himself  by  means  of  tire¬ 
less  industry,  yet  unable  to  reach  Europe,  with¬ 
out  which  no  artist  then  hoped  to  attain  dis¬ 
tinction,  until  1842,  when  he  was  thirty-eight 
years  of  age.  During  his  four  years  in  Italy  he 
made  the  marble  statuettes  and  reliefs  expected 
of  sculptors  at  that  time,  but  he  did  not  fit  into 
the  environment  of  the  old  world,  and  they  could 
not  make  a  classicist  of  him.  Upon  his  return  to 
the  United  States  he  vindicated  his  independence 
by  making  a  series  of  studies  of  Indians,  and  later 
received  commissions  for  a  large  bas-relief  for 
the  Church  of  the  Annunciation  in  New  York, 
and  a  statue  of  De  Witt  Clinton  for  Greenwood 
Cemetery,  where  stands  also  his  “  Angel  of  the 
Resurrection.”  His  studio  was  in  the  old  Ro¬ 
tunda  in  Broadway,  the  first  home  of  the  National 
Academy.  Brown  established  a  miniature  bronze 
foundry  there  and  cast  many  of  his  smaller  works 
in  metal. 

The  equestrian  statue  of  Washington  marks 
the  spot  where  the  citizens  met  the  Commander- 


UNION  AND  MADISON  SQUARES  243 


in-Chief  of  the  army  when  he  reentered  the  city 
after  the  British  evacuation,  November  25,  1783. 
Washington,  Tuckerman  tells  us,  is  represented 
“in  the  act  of  calling  his  troops  to  repose;  the 
figure  is  bareheaded,  the  hat  resting  on  his  bridle 
arm,  the  sword  sheathed,  the  right  hand  extended 
as  if  commanding  quiet;  the  drapery  is  the  simple 
Continental  uniform.”* 

The  silhouette  of  the  group  is  compact,  its  total 
mass  in  dignified  relation  to  the  simple  pedestal. 
The  horse  is  large  and  spirited;  the  rider  com¬ 
manding,  his  control  of  his  mount  revealing  the 
character  of  the  man  in  whom  we  feel  essentially 
the  leader,  while  his  noble  gesture  conjures  the 
vision  of  the  army  of  patriots  to  whom  it  speaks. 
The  statue  has  serene  dignity,  composure,  equi¬ 
librium — the  attributes  of  great  art.  Commenced 
in  February,  1853,  it  was  finished  and  inaugur¬ 
ated,  with  impressive  ceremonies,  on  the  eightieth 
anniversary  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence, 
July  4,  1856. 

Kirke  Brown,  like  Verrocchio,  has  been  called 
a  man  of  one  masterpiece;  and  if  the  equestrian 
statue  of  the  condottiere,  Bartolomeo  Colleoni,  in 
the  Campo  Santi  Giovanni  e  Paolo,  in  Venice,  has 
remained,  with  the  famous  Gattamelata,  of  Dona- 


*  ‘‘Book  of  the  Artists,”  p.  575. 


244  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


tello,  the  type  of  such  things  for  the  sculptors 
of  succeeding  generations,  this  noble  conception 
of  Washington  has  more  than  held  its  place  in 
the  annals  of  American  sculpture,  in  whose  re¬ 
shaping  Kirke  Brown  was  a  strong  force.  He 
and  Clark  Mills,  indeed,  were  pioneers  in  the  re¬ 
action  against  the  classic  revival,  which  under 
Thorwaldsen  and  Canova  had  spread  its  mere¬ 
tricious  influence  throughout  the  civilized  world. 
Brown  boldly  rejected  the  lifeless  tradition,  and, 
especially  through  his  pupil,  John  Quincy  Adams 
Ward,  who  assisted  in  the  making  of  the  statue 
of  Washington,  fathered  an  xVmerican  school  of 
sculpture  that  stood  for  the  honest  representation 
of  things  as  they  are.  These  old  fellows,  with  all 
their  faults,  directed  at  least  a  movement  towards 
something  American  and  related  to  their  time. 
Ward,  who  was  brought  up  in  Brown’s  studio, 
broke  thoroughly  free,  and  during  his  long  and 
honourable  bfe  was  a  tremendous  influence  in  that 
first  national  movement. 

Ward’s  vitality  in  resisting  the  condition  of  art 
in  Italy,  to  which  he,  of  course,  went  in  due 
course,  was  a  veritable  stemming  of  the  tide;  and 
his  words,  preserved  in  that  charming  and  just 
appreciation  of  the  sculptor  written  by  Mrs. 
Herbert  Adams,  express  the  profundity  of  his 


UNION  AND  MADISON  SQUARES  245 


convictions.  “  £  A  cursed  atmosphere,’  cries  Ward. 
‘  The  magnetism  of  the  antique  statues  is  so 
strong  that  it  draws  a  sculptor’s  manhood  out 
of  him.  A  modern  man  has  modern  themes  to 
deal  with;  and  if  art  is  a  living  thing,  a  serious, 
earnest  thing,  fresh  from  a  man’s  soul,  he  must 
live  in  that  of  which  he  treats — an  American 
sculptor  will  serve  himself  and  his  age  best  by 
working  at  home.’  ” 

We  have  seen  how  straightforward  was  Ward’s 
dealing  with  the  great  Washington,  before  the 
Sub-Treasury;  with  the  Greeley  statue  in  City 
Hall  Park;  and  we  shall  see  later  before  the 
Brooklyn  Borough  Hall,  his  most  uncompromis¬ 
ing  portrait  of  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  so  ugly 
in  its  fidelity  to  fact,  so  little  subtle  in  the 
expression  of  those  extraneous  figures  that  en¬ 
cumber  its  base.  But  the  value  of  these  rugged, 
basic  truths,  even  when  unpalatable,  is  not  to  be 
disparaged. 

Ward  had  a  fund  of  human  interest  and 
psychology,  but  little  sculptural  feeling.  After 
him  came  Saint  Gaudens,  who  added  to  the  elder 
sculptor’s  qualities  the  inestimable  attribute  of 
beauty.  The  three  pioneers — Mills,  Brown,  and 
Ward — had  paved  the  way  for  distinguished 
American  expression,  opened  the  door  for  Saint 


246  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Gaudens  who  arrived  with  the  general  awakening 
that  followed  the  Centennial,  when  Paris,  not 
Rome,  became  the  objective  point  of  students  and 
the  French-trained  sculptor  rose  into  prominence 
and  dominated  the  field  of  vision.  Saint  Gaudens 
was  “  finished,”  so  to  speak,  in  the  Beaux  Arts, 
but  he  was  primarily  a  product  of  Ward’s  atelier, 
so  that  he  relates  directly  to  our  movement,  of 
which  he  was,  in  his  day,  the  ultimate  flower. 
The  sculptors  that  follow  in  his  train  have  lost 
the  old  basic  foundation  of  those  American 
pioneers  and  their  work  without  it  becomes 
meaningless  and  empty.  This  condition  has 
developed  the  portrait  statue,  as  we  know  it 
to-day,  in  all  its  monumental  stupidity — the 
demand  for  which  has  practically  killed  sculpture 
in  this  country,  so  far  as  the  national  movement 
is  concerned. 

And  with  that  decline  came  also  the  Teutonic 
invasion  of  the  field,  an  influence  now  predom¬ 
inant  with  us.  The  Germans,  in  their  monu¬ 
mental  and  applied  sculpture,  generally  speaking, 
went  back  to  the  old  neo-Greek,  and  were  a 
factor  in  the  commercialization  of  sculpture  under 
which  baleful  influence  we  are  now  suffering. 
How  the  case  stands  may  be  appreciated  by  a 
glance  at  the  membership  list  of  the  National 


UNION  AND  MADISON  SQUARES  247 


Sculpture  Society,  which  shows  that  body  to  be 
largely  composed  of  foreign-horn  artists. 

With  the  exception  of  Clark  Mills,  who  is  not 
represented  in  the  city,  New  York  furnishes  a 
field  for  the  study  of  the  development  of  sculp¬ 
ture  in  America  to  any  one  sufficiently  interested 
to  look  it  up.  To  study  Canova  we  shall  have 
to  penetrate  a  private  collection — Senator  Clark 
owns  an  example;  Thorwaldsen,  the  Danish 
classicist,  is  represented  at  an  upper  entrance  of 
Central  Park,  with  a  fife-sized  portrait  statue  of 
himself;  Central  Park  abounds  in  the  most  pain¬ 
ful  pre-Centennial  conceptions  of  sculpture,  that 
show  the  wearing  away  of  the  Italian  influence, 
with  nothing  vital  to  replace  it.  “  The  Falconer,” 
by  George  Simonds,  a  sculptor  who  resided  in 
Rome,  is  a  typical  example  of  this  vapid  period, 
for  which  undoubtedly  Hiram  Powers’  “  Greek 
Slave,”  shown  at  the  Crystal  Palace  exposition, 
in  1858,  set  the  public  taste,  for  it  was  fondly 
believed  to  be  the  greatest  work  of  sculpture 
known  to  history.  One  can  realize  how  far  we 
have  come  since  our  first  world’s  fair,  when  we 
learn  that  some  time  during  the  famous  domina¬ 
tion  of  the  Tweed  Ring  in  New  York  one  of 
their  aesthetic  measures  was  to  paint  all  the  bronze 
statues  in  Central  Park  white,  to  simulate  marble. 


248  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


This  was  at  about  the  time  of  the  Centennial,  or 
just  prior  to  it. 

The  statue  of  the  youthful  Lafayette,  by 
Bartholdi,  which  stands  at  the  head  of  Broadway 
in  Union  Square,  shows  the  decline  of  classic 
influence,  still,  however,  quite  apparent  in  the 
use  of  the  toga,  thrown  across  the  shoulder  of  the 
figure  to  give  sculptural  mass.  This  is  interest¬ 
ing  as  showing  how  difficult  it  was  for  sculptors 
of  his  period  to  give  up  dependence  on  the  Roman 
models.  Lafayette  wears  his  drapery,  over  his 
eighteenth  century  uniform,  very  much  as  Ger- 
manicus  wore  his  in  the  famous  classic  statue 
of  that  hero. 

Nor  need  one  leave  Union  Square  to  look  into 
the  matter  of  German  influence,  for  here  we 
have  a  notorious  example  of  the  native  product — 
the  small  bronze  fountain  by  Adolf  Donndorf,  of 
Stuttgart,  a  gift  to  the  city,  in  1881.  As  for  the 
neo-Greek  sculpture  by  our  foreign-born  residents, 
that  is  rife  about  the  lower  part  of  the  city  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  City  Hall  Park,  especially 
some  caryatides  in  that  vicinity,  some  groups  on 
the  municipal  buildings,  the  portrait  statues  of 
Franklin  and  Gutenberg  in  front  of  the  Staats 
Zeitung  Building,  and  the  Franklin  by  Plassman 
in  Printing  House  Square.  LTnion  and  Madison 


THE  FARRAGUT  STATUE,  BY  AUGUSTUS  SAINT-GAUDENS 
PEDESTAL  DESIGNED  BY  STANFORD  WHITE 
MADISON  SQUARE  (PAGE  249) 


/ 


UNION  AND  MADISON  SQUARES  249 


Squares  and  Central  Park  furnish  prolific 
examples  of  the  stupid  portrait  statue  that  grew 
out  of  the  decadence  of  classic  influence;  while 
with  the  later  period  of  commercial  portrait  we 
are  only  too  well  supplied. 

Two  years  after  the  general  awakening  of  1876 
came  the  important  commissions  for  the  statues 
of  Admiral  Farragut  and  Robert  Randall;  and 
here  we  have  proof  of  Ward’s  large-mindedness, 
for  it  was  he  who  decided  a  committee,  wavering 
between  the  eligibility  of  himself  and  Saint 
Gaudens,  who  had  just  come  back  from  Paris, 
for  the  monument  to  Farragut.  “  Give  the  young 
man  a  chance,”  said  Ward;  and  the  commission 
was  passed  to  Saint  Gaudens. 

The  Farragut  statue,  unveiled  in  1881,  on  the 
Fifth  Avenue  side  of  Madison  Square,  marked 
again  a  departure  in  sculpture  in  this  country, 
and  had  the  advantage  of  the  collaboration  of  a 
distinguished  architect  in  the  design  of  the  exedra 
upon  which  the  standing  figure  of  the  admiral  is 
so  handsomely  mounted.  Saint  Gaudens  executed 
the  figure  in  Paris,  showing  it  in  the  salon  of 
1880.  When  he  returned  to  New  York,  he  spent 
much  time  with  Stanford  White  in  designing  and 
perfecting  the  pedestal,  which  was  so  to  modify 
and  amplify  the  civic  traditions  on  this  important 


250  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


subject.  This  was  not  effected  without  the 
demolition  of  some  of  the  city’s  cherished  rules, 
for  New  York  had  enacted  a  labour-saving  regu¬ 
lation  that  all  pedestals  should  follow  a  uniform 
design;  and  this  proved  so  much  of  an  obstacle 
that  at  one  time  Saint  Gaudens  threatened  to 
withdraw  his  figure  unless  the  pedestal  should  be 
“  permitted  ”  as  designed.  In  the  end,  of  course, 
the  sculptor  and  architect  prevailed,  with  the 
result  here  so  happily  displayed.  The  ceremony 
of  unveiling  was  made  a  great  occasion,  and  with 
it  Saint  Gaudens  stepped  into  the  high  place  in 
American  sculpture,  which  he  occupied  with  in¬ 
creasing  honour  until  his  death,  in  1907. 

The  statue  of  Farragut  was  made  when  the 
sculptor  was  thirty  years  old.  LTpon  it  the  base 
of  Saint  Gaudens’  great  reputation  rests;  and 
while  in  New  York  its  merits  are  often  balanced 
with  those  of  the  Sherman  equestrian  group,  at 
the  entrance  to  Central  Park;  the  Peter  Cooper, 
in  Cooper  Square;  and  the  relief  of  Dr.  Bellows, 
in  the  All  Souls’  Church — all  later  works — it  has 
never  had  to  yield  precedence  to  any,  but  holds  its 
own  by  force  of  its  splendid  vigor  and  youthful 
plasticity.  It  has  the  essential  characteristics  of 
the  portrait  but  so  combined  with  the  attitude  of 
the  artist  that  the  figure  stands  as  much  more 


UNION  AND  MADISON  SQUARES  251 


than  a  portrait,  having  in  it  something  more 
living,  more  typical,  deeper  than  the  mere  out¬ 
ward  mould  of  the  man.  Saint  Gaudens’  Farra- 
gut  has  the  bearing  of  a  seaman,  balanced  on 
his  two  legs,  in  a  posture  easy,  yet  strong.  He 
is  rough  and  bluff  with  the  courage  and  sim¬ 
plicity  of  a  commander;  his  eye  is  accustomed  to 
deal  with  horizons,  while  the  features  are  clean- 
cut  and  masterful.  The  inscription  is  happy: 
“  That  the  memory  of  a  daring  and  sagacious 
commander  and  gentle  great-souled  man,  whose 
life  from  childhood  was  given  to  his  country,  but 
who  served  her  supremely  in  the  war  for  the 
Union,  1861-1865,  may  he  preserved  and  hon¬ 
oured;  and  that  they  who  come  after  him  and 
who  will  love  him  so  much  may  see  him  as  he 
was  seen  by  friend  and  foe,  his  countrymen  have 
set  up  this  monument  A.D.  MDCCCLXXXI.” 

The  pedestal,  like  which  nothing  had  been  seen 
in  this  country,  was  much  discussed  at  the  time 
of  its  erection,  and  became  the  prototype  of  the 
numerous  exedras  which  followed  throughout  the 
country.  Richard  Watson  Gilder  eulogized  it 
sympathetically  in  his  magazine,*  and  no  one 
ever  seemed  to  suggest  that  its  cleverness  was 
just  a  little  in  excess  of  its  depth,  or  that  the 

*  Scribners,  June,  1881. 


252  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


suave  lines  of  those  conventional  females,  personi¬ 
fying  Courage  and  Patriotism,  were  a  bit  weak 
and  inept  as  companions  to  the  man  who  took 
the  fleet  past  the  forts  in  Mobile  Bay;  so  that 
the  monument  always  seems  to  me  to  separate 
into  two  parts — one  very  strong,  the  other  very 
beautiful,  between  which  there  is  no  coherent 
sympathy,  but  a  very  certain  ambiguity'. 

These  ladies  belong  clearly  to  the  same 
family  as  those,  more  fortunately  placed  by  Stan¬ 
ford  White,  on  the  Gorham  Building,  further 
up  the  avenue,  and  felicitously  sculptured  by 
Andrew  O’Connor.  To  the  trade  of  the  silver¬ 
smith,  in  its  highest  expression,  they  do  most 
admirably  belong,  and  the  pendentives  on  this 
building,  which  Mr.  Arnold  Bennett  brought 
into  agreeable  prominence  by  his  unstinted  praise 
of  its  cornice — the  finest  in  New  York,  he  called 
it — are  one  of  the  pleasures  of  the  ride  up  the 
avenue. 

Saint  Gaudens  and  White  again  collaborated 
on  the  graceful  tower  of  the  Madison  Square 
Garden,  modelled  on  that  of  the  Giralda,  at 
Seville.  The  gilded  Diana,  which  surmounts  the 
whole,  is  another  early  work  of  the  sculptor  of 
the  Farragut  monument,  a  finial  figure,  inspired 
by  Houdon’s  “  Diana  of  the  Louvre.”  Her  fate 


UNION  AND  MADISON  SQUARES  253 


hangs  in  the  balance,  with  that  of  the  building 
over  which  she  is  poised;  for  the  building  has  an 
unforgivable  fault — it  never  “paid”  And  just 
for  that  “  they  ”  say  it  has  got  to  come  down, 
and  the  beautiful  golden  Diana  is  to  be  sold  at 
auction  to  the  highest  bidder.  Before  this  book 
is  published  its  destiny  may  be  decided,  but  none 
can  foretell  it  now.  The  best  that  it  can  wildly 
hope  is  a  refuge  in  a  museum,  where,  denied  its 
setting,  robbed  of  its  associations,  its  day  will 
be  done. 

Both  the  Farragut  statue  and  the  pleasure 
house,  erected  ten  years  later,  have  been  thrust 
out  of  scale  by  the  heavy  intrusion  of  office 
buildings  on  the  east  side:  yet  the  Farragut  holds 
by  its  integral  weight  as  a  work  of  art,  and  the 
Madison  Square  Garden  remains  an  imposing 
monument  to  the  genius  of  its  architect.  Old 
prints  of  New  York  show  how  these  two  kindred 
works  used  to  sound  the  note  of  the  square,  a  note 
now  brazenly  taken  for  modernity  by  the  bump¬ 
tious  Metropolitan  Tower,  whose  ugly  bulk 
quashed  the  pretty  charm  of  the  fine  trees  and 
fountain,  putting  the  very  sky  out  of  scale,  and, 
as  a  last  word  in  impertinence,  claiming  derivation 
from — oh  shade  of  St.  Marks! — the  Campanile  of 
Venice. 


254  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


The  Tower  replaces  the  first  site  of  the  Madi¬ 
son  Square  Presbyterian  Church,  which  gradually 
became  enclosed  by  the  encroaching  Metropolitan 
Life  Insurance  Building.  On  the  opposite  corner 
stood,  until  not  more  than  ten  years  ago,  the  Cath¬ 
arine  Lorillard  Wolfe  mansion,  a  fine  old  brown- 
stone  dwelling,  and  one  of  the  landmarks  of  the 
square,  once  an  exclusive  residential  neighbour¬ 
hood.  When  this  house  came  upon  the  market 
it  was  bought  by  John  R.  Hegeman,  of  the  Metro¬ 
politan  Company,  ostensibly  for  his  own  use. 
After  holding  it  for  a  time,  Mr.  Hegeman,  speak¬ 
ing  for  the  company,  offered  to  exchange  the 
Wolfe  house  and  lot,  valued  at  about  $700,000, 
for  the  site  of  Dr.  Parkhurst’s  Church,  the  lots 
being  of  equal  size  and  value,  and,  to  make  the 
offer  more  attractive  to  the  trustees  and  congre¬ 
gation,  to  “  throw  in  ”  an  extra  $300,000  for  good 
measure. 

This  apparently  handsome  offer  the  church 
accepted.  Nothing  had  been  said  about  the  char¬ 
acter  of  the  structure  that  was  to  replace  the 
original  church,  and  which  now  sinks  it  into  a  well 
of  darkness.  Although  the  new  church  was  dedi¬ 
cated  only  ten  years  ago  (1907)  it  was  not 
thought  necessary  to  pursue  a  fleeing  congre¬ 
gation  into  the  outskirts  of  the  city.  The  church 


INTERIOR  MADISON  SQUARE  PRESBYTERIAN  CHURCH 
LOUIS  C.  TIFFANY  AND  STANFORD  WHITE  (PAGE  256) 


UNION  AND  MADISON  SQUARES  255 


was  called  “  The  Madison  Square  Presbyterian 
Church,”  and  the  trustees  had  no  wish  to  destroy 
the  significance  of  that  honourable  title.  So  set 
were  they  upon  remaining  in  their  original  locality, 
that  when  an  endowment  fund  was  subscribed  for 
the  maintenance  of  the  church,  it  was  stipulated 
that  the  foundation  was  to  be  available  only  during 
such  time  as  the  church  should  occupy  its  present 
location,  after  which,  supposing  it  was  ever  found 
expedient  to  move  in  spite  of  the  conditions,  the 
fund  should  be  forfeit  and  the  amount  paid  over  to 
the  Presbyterian  Hospital. 

With  all  these  details  understood  the  manage¬ 
ment  set  about  the  construction  of  an  edifice  that 
should  compare  with  the  most  beautiful  churches 
of  New  York.  Stanford  White  was  the  archi¬ 
tect.  His  tragic  death  occurred  the  year  before 
the  church  was  ready  for  occupancy,  and  it  rep¬ 
resents  therefore  the  last  important  work  of  New 
York’s  most  noted  architect.  White  conceived  it 
as  a  Roman  basilica.  The  exterior  is  exceedingly 
beautiful,  executed  in  grey  brick,  throughout 
which  is  repeated,  in  the  manner  of  a  diaper 
pattern,  the  Maltese  Cross,  giving  variety  and 
interest  to  the  surface.  The  porch  is  supported 
by  exquisite  pillars  of  polished  granite. 

White  never  stopped  short  of  the  best.  His 


256  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


buildings  were  modelled  after  the  noblest  types; 
their  details  were  executed  by  the  ablest  talent 
that  the  country  afforded.  The  effective  white 
figures  on  the  blue  enamel  of  the  pediment,  which 
gives  colour  to  the  facade,  were  designed  by 
H.  Siddons  Mowbray  and  executed  by  him 
in  combination  with  the  sculptor,  Adolph 
Weinman. 

The  interior  follows  the  spirit  of  the  Mosque 
of  Santa  Sophia,  in  Constantinople,  the  greatest 
achievement  of  its  style,  the  most  satisfactory  of 
all  domed  interiors.  In  its  elaboration  the  archi¬ 
tect  collaborated  with  Louis  Tiffany,  who  lent 
himself  to  the  task  with  the  more  ardour,  perhaps, 
because  the  Tiffany  family  belonged  to  this 
church.  The  general  tone  of  the  colour  scheme 
is  gold,  to  which  the  enriched  dome  and  the 
ornamental  chancel  organs  contribute  the  positive 
notes,  while  the  interior  is,  perhaps,  most  notably 
a  monumental  example  of  the  Tiffany  favrile 
glass,  in  whose  happy  use  the  building  has  no 
rival. 

The  church  gets  little  or  no  daylight,  and  the 
effect  of  the  iridescent  window's,  executed  in  this 
beautiful  substance,  simulates  light  in  an  extraor¬ 
dinary  way.  The  light  which  appears  to  come 
through  them  is  really  the  reflection  of  the  light 


UNION  AND  MADISON  SQUARES  257 


thrown  upon  them  from  the  many  electroliers, 
themselves  marvels  of  originality.  The  central 
designs  of  the  windows,  representing  biblical 
subjects,  in  circles,  are  surrounded  by  smaller 
circles  enclosing  symbols  of  the  seasons,  done  in 
leaded  glass,  the  whole  idea  being  unique  both  in 
conception  and  in  execution. 

The  chancel  wall  presents  in  one  continuous 
block  of  lettering  the  Ten  Commandments,  done 
in  the  favrile  glass  on  a  white  mosaic  background. 
The  effect  suggests  mother-of-pearl,  and  is  ex¬ 
tremely  delicate  and  refined,  as  indeed  are  all  the 
embellishments  of  the  interior,  about  which  there 
is  nothing  ostentatious.  The  surfaces  are  richly 
wrought  with  endless  detail,  but  with  such  discre¬ 
tion  that  the  interior  seems  to  draw  upon  an  inex¬ 
haustible  source  of  beauty,  which  the  eye  dis¬ 
covers  little  by  little,  sounding  new  depths  at  each 
renewed  vision. 

Hopkinson  Smith  has  spoken  of  Madison 
Square  in  the  spring  as  a  “  mosaic  of  light  and 
shade.”  *  It  made,  in  its  day,  its  wide  appeal  to 
artists,  and  so  we  have  ample  record  of  its  for¬ 
mer  brilliancy  and  charm.  Its  name  in  those 
days  seemed  to  evoke,  more  than  any  other  fre¬ 
quented  spot,  the  physical  semblance  of  the  city, 

*  “  Charcoals  of  New  York,”  F.  Hopkinson  Smith. 


238  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


the  picture  of  gaiety  and  sunshine,  of  freedom 
and  fresh  air,  of  chic  coupes  drawn  by  spanking 
teams  of  glossy  horses,  of  breezy  pedestrians 
taking  with  pleasure  the  sprint  across  the  square, 
itself  the  merry  playground  of  happy  children, 
the  resting-spot  of  nounous  and  sleeping,  lace- 
frilled  babies. 

It  was  James  Harper,  of  the  distinguished  firm 
of  publishers,  whose  influence  preserved,  beauti¬ 
fied,  and  increased  the  public  lands  originally 
planned  and  used  as  a  “  Parade  Ground.”  The 
park  was  opened  during  his  administration  as 
mayor  of  New'  York,  in  1844.  He  also  stimu¬ 
lated  the  purchase  of  additional  territory,  closed 
the  old  Boston  Post  Road,  wThose  bed  is  indicated 
by  the  double  row  of  trees  leading  from  the  foun¬ 
tain  north,  and  ordered  Fifth  Avenue  filled  in 
and  regulated  from  Twenty-third  to  Twenty- 
eighth  Streets.  The  potter’s  field,  established 
here,  in  1704,  had  been  banished  to  Washington 
Square  after  a  short  tenure,  being  considered  an 
eyesore  on  the  popular  afternoon  drive — the  four¬ 
teen  miles  around,  as  Washington  called  it,  cov¬ 
ered  by  following  the  Bloomingdale  Road  to 
Harlem  Heights,  and  returning  along  the  Boston 
Post  Road. 

The  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  at  Twenty-third 


UNION  AND  MADISON  SQUARES  259 

Street  and  Fifth  Avenue,  replaced  the  ancient 
road-house  kept  by  Corporal  Thompson,  and 
known,  in  coaching  days,  as  the  Madison  Cottage. 
The  hotel,  built  in  1858,  was  a  six-story  structure 
of  white  marble,  containing  every  then  known 
luxury,  including  the  first  passenger  elevator — 
called  a  “  vertical  railroad.” 

The  Prince  of  Wales,  later  Edward  VII,  was 
entertained  here  on  his  visit  to  this  country,  in 
1860;  the  Emperor  Dom  Pedro,  of  Brazil,  and 
the  Empress  stayed  at  the  hotel  in  1876;  and 
Presidents  Lincoln  and  Grant  were  among  the 
celebrated  guests.  General  William  T.  Sherman, 
William  J.  Florence,  the  actor,  and  ex-Senator 
Thomas  C.  Platt,  the  republican  boss,  made  their 
homes  here.  The  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  remained 
a  feature  of  the  avenue  for  fifty  years,  when  it 
was  torn  down  to  make  way  for  the  Fifth  Avenue 
Building,  which  now  marks  this  historic  site. 

Madison  Square  has  suffered  more  than  most 
public  places  in  New  York  from  misguided  efforts 
at  embellishment.  The  portrait  statue  of  Gov¬ 
ernor  Seward,  by  Randolph  Rogers,  of  Rogers’ 
group  fame,  is  only  interesting  as  showing  the 
state  of  mind  towards  sculpture  just  prior  to  the 
Centennial.  It  had,  to  the  American  critic  of 
its  period,  the  inestimable  advantage  of  having 


260  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


been  made  in  Rome,  though  not  indeed  as  a 
portrait  of  Governor  Seward.  A  certain  am¬ 
biguity  of  character,  in  the  long,  loosely  hung 
limbs  and  bony  frame,  substantiates  the  current 
scandal  that  Rogers  modelled  it  as  a  portrait  of 
Lincoln  and,  failing  to  dispose  of  it  under  that 
guise,  made  a  new  head  and  sold  it  as  Seward. 
Its  hard,  dry  academicism  presents  all  the  stu¬ 
pidity  of  its  epoch.  Bissell’s  Chester  A.  Arthur 
and  Ward’s  Roscoe  Conkling  were  given  to  the 
city’  about  twenty  years  later;  while  still  later  a 
flood  of  mediocre  sculpture  was  let  loose  upon  the 
over-decorated  building  of  the  Appellate  Court, 
on  the  east  side  of  the  square. 

The  Appellate  Court  House,  designed  by  James 
Brown  Lord,  architect,  was  completed  in  1900, 
and  represents  a  new  departure  in  municipal 
buildings.  It  has  the  great  misfortune  to  have 
been  erected  on  an  L-shaped  plot  of  ground, 
alongside  of  which  fronted  Twenty-fifth  Street, 
so  that  the  main  facade  was  obliged  to  face  that 
narrow  street,  w’hile  only  an  end  is  visible  from 
the  square,  whence  its  features  might  be  sup¬ 
posed  to  have  gained  by  an  effective  approach. 
The  absence  of  any  sort  of  setting  for  so  formid¬ 
able  an  array  of  personalities  as  those  presented 
by  the  sky-line  of  statues  merely,  to  say  nothing 


Copyright  by  Henry  Oliver  Walker 
Copley  Print  Copyright,  1899,  by  Curtis  and  Cameron 


DECORATIVE  PANEL,  "WISDOM,”  BY  HENRY  OLIVER  WALKER 
APPELLATE  COURT  HOUSE,  MADISON  SQUARE  (PAGE  264) 


UNION  AND  MADISON  SQUARES  261 

of  the  more  pregnant  symbolic  groups  of  this 
exorbitant  structure,  seems  to  express  the  high 
pitch  of  competition  reached  in  this  central  cur¬ 
rent  of  desirability. 

No  less  than  sixteen  sculptors  were  in  the  con¬ 
spiracy  to  make  the  Appellate  Court  House  com¬ 
mit  this  unpardonable  breach  of  reticence;  to 
announce  from  its  own  house  top  the  intellectual 
sources  of  its  legal  precedent,  claiming  derivation, 
it  is  to  be  supposed,  from  those  ten  law-givers  of 
antiquity,  carved  as  finials  to  the  main  uprights 
of  the  building  itself;  standing  upon  those  tried 
and  sound  virtues — Wisdom  and  Justice, — or 
assertively  proud  of  its  Force  and  of  the  inevi¬ 
table  Triumph  of  Law  over  Anarchy,  with  its 
resultant  Peace.  Morning,  Noon,  Evening,  and 
Night,  and  throughout  the  Seasons,  it  is  alle¬ 
gorically  put  to  us,  will  these  conscious  virtues 
operate  for  eternal  good,  until  the  mighty  hand 
of  civic  progress  shall  come  along  and  sweep  the 
whole  florid  structure  into  the  dust. 

There  was  once  a  genial  and  delightful  member 
of  a  shabby,  Bohemian  club  in  Philadelphia,  where 
camaraderie  was  cherished  to  the  exclusion  of  the 
minor  qualities  of  law  and  order  and  so-called 
good  behaviour.  In  good  time  the  club  prospered, 
and  feeling  the  weight  of  its  purse,  moved  out  of 


262  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


its  hospitable  attic  into  a  house  of  its  own.  With 
this  removal  came  new  responsibilities,  and  house 
committees  began  to  take  themselves  and  their 
duties  seriously,  so  that  finally  a  hostile  sort  of 
discipline  crept  into  the  little  club,  and  this  the 
older  members,  and  those  of  the  younger  set 
with  the  cult  for  camaraderie ,  resented  with  whim¬ 
sical  bitterness,  like  naughty  children  under  the 
rule  of  a  conscientious  stepmother.  The  genial 
and  delightful  member  was  one  of  these,  and,  sad 
to  relate,  he  clung  to  his  Bohemian  proclivities, 
and  distressed  his  stepmother  house  committee 
by  feats  of  drunkenness  in  which  he  reverted  com¬ 
pletely  to  his  type  and  seemed  to  think  himself 
still  a  member  of  that  attic  club  of  shameful  mem¬ 
ory.  Finally  he  was  expelled.  Not  only  had  he, 
when  confused  by  wine,  poured  libations  into  the 
grand  piano;  it  was  cited,  as  the  culmination  of 
his  depredations,  that  once  the  sight  of  a  neat  and 
orderly  row  of  bottles  and  glasses  ranged  upon  a 
classic  mantelpiece  had  so  enraged  him  that  with 
one  sweep  of  his  strong  right  arm  he  cleared  the 
shelf,  scattering  destruction  in  his  path.  If  some 
benign  giant  Bacchus  could  but,  in  a  state  of 
super-intoxication,  with  a  mighty  gesture  sweep 
the  offending  impedimenta  from  the  roof  of  the 
Appellate  Court,  where  Manu,  Mohammed,  Zoro- 


UNION  AND  MADISON  SQUARES  263 


aster,  Confucius,  and  the  others  are  ranged  with 
maddening  neatness,  what  a  relief  it  would  be  to 
brain  and  eyes. 

If  in  its  outer  surfaces  the  Appellate  Court 
protests  too  much,  from  the  iconoclastic  point  of 
view,  so  also  the  richly  embellished  interior  seems 
to  “  overdo  ”  the  symbolic,  to  have  dragged  all 
the  rivers  of  learning  and  power  that  no  minute 
particle  of  wisdom  be  left  unexploited  in  this 
verbose  statement  of  authority.  The  psychologi¬ 
cal  effect  of  such  magnificent  courts  upon  the 
simple  offender  was  not  lost  upon  so  subtle  an 
observer  as  Mr.  Anatole  France;  and  one  can 
understand  another  Crinquebille  awed  by  the 
luxury  of  this  one,  and  even  flattered  by  an 
unjust  sentence  coming  from  august  beings  in¬ 
spired  by  such  dreams  of  classic  equity. 

The  handsome  frieze,  which  ornaments  the  Main 
Hall,  holds  together  well  in  colour,  though  painted 
by  three  artists  with  different  ideas — Henry  Sid- 
dons  Mowbray,  Robert  Reid,  and  Willard  L. 
Metcalf.  This  frieze,  in  bright  colours,  in  the 
illuminated  style,  harmonizes  excellently  with  the 
handsome  onyx  walls.  On  entering,  Mr.  Mow¬ 
bray’s  section  is  opposite,  Mr.  Reid’s  to  the  right, 
Mr.  Metcalf’s  to  the  left  and  carried  over  to  the 
entrance  wall,  where  also,  between  the  doors,  are 


264  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


two  lunettes  by  Charles  Yardley  Turner.  The 
series  by  Mr.  Mowbray,  representing  the  Trans¬ 
mission  of  the  Law,  is  conceived  in  the  best  deco¬ 
rative  spirit.  A  formal  winged  figure,  repeated 
from  space  to  space,  carrying  a  scroll,  links  the 
groups  together;  and  these  intermediate  groups 
form  an  historical  sequence  of  law-givers,  from 
Moses  to  the  Greeks;  from  the  Romans  onward 
to  the  Common  Law  of  England  and  down  to 
the  black-robed  judges  of  to-day. 

Reid’s  decoration,  neither  realistic  in  treatment 
nor  flat  and  decorative,  is  beautiful  in  colour,  with 
blue  predominating;  while  Metcalf  has  seen  his 
problem  more  in  the  light  of  easel  pictures,  in 
which  the  symbolism  is  ineffective  and  obscure. 

The  three  panels,  for  which  the  court-house  is 
famed,  are  in  the  Court  Room,  an  ornate  chamber, 
opening  off  the  Main  Hall.  These  panels  by 
Edward  Simmons,  Ilenry  Oliver  Walker,  and 
Edwin  Howland  Blashfield,  three  of  our  most 
eminent  mural  painters,  are  the  feature  of  the 
Appellate  Court,  and  bring  it  at  once  into  the 
class  of  those  more  consistently  conceived  struc¬ 
tures,  with  which  it  was  contemporary,  the  Boston 
Public  Library  and  the  Library  of  Congress. 

At  this  time,  between  1888  and  1897,  following 
the  admirable  lead  of  the  French  nation,  which 


UNION  AND  MADISON  SQUARES  265 

had  secured  in  the  decorations  of  the  Hotel  de 
Ville  and  the  Petit  Palais,  in  Paris,  as  well  as  in 
the  Pantheon,  and  other  municipal  buildings,  ex¬ 
amples  of  the  work  of  all  of  its  great  living  paint¬ 
ers,  the  feeling  had  become  strong  here  that 
American  artists  should  be  represented  in  the 
public  buildings  of  our  cities,  and  the  whole  ques¬ 
tion  of  mural  painting  became  the  live  issue  that 
it  is  to-day.  If  Boston  was  more  fastidious  in  her 
choice  of  painters  and  sculptors,  Washington  laid 
special  unction  to  her  soul  in  the  fact  that  all  the 
artists  commissioned  by  the  government  were  both 
native  and  resident. 

In  conforming  to  a  practice  so  salutary  to  the 
cause  of  American  art,  the  intention  of  the  Appel¬ 
late  Court  cannot  be  too  highly  respected.  It 
secured  the  work  of  many  artists  towards  its  em¬ 
bellishment.  Certainly  the  painters  of  the  Court 
Room  panels  attacked  the  work  in  the  right  spirit, 
and  have  collaborated  with  much  success. 

To  the  right  and  left  of  the  three  central  pic¬ 
tures  are  the  seals  of  the  State  and  City  of  New 
York,  by  George  Willoughby  Maynard,  and  the 
remaining  panels  are  the  work  of  Kenyon  Cox 
and  Joseph  Lauber. 


XIII 


MURRAY  HILL 

Caprice  has  settled,  for  the  moment,  our  shift¬ 
ing  centre  of  seething,  whirling,  metropolitan  ac¬ 
tivity  upon  the  summit  of  Murray  Hill,  sweep¬ 
ing,  hurtling,  before  the  advancing  march  of  trade, 
the  older  residence  quarter,  now  as  buried  and  for¬ 
gotten  and  inconceivable  as  the  cornfield  where 
Washington  tried  to  rally  his  troops,  on  Robert 
Murray’s  farm,  somewhere  between  the  sites  of  the 
Grand  Central  Station  and  Bryant  Park.  At 
the  manor  house  of  Incleberg,  the  Murray  estate, 
which  stood  near  the  present  intersection  of  Park 
Avenue  and  Thirty-seventh  Street,  Mrs.  Murray 
entertained  General  Howe  and  the  British  offi¬ 
cers  so  hospitably,  with  her  fine  old  Madeira,  that 
Washington  and  Putnam  were  given  time  to  mus¬ 
ter  the  Continental  soldiers,  who,  in  sad  disorder 
and  panic-stricken,  filled  the  farms  and  fields  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Murray  Hill.  Washington’s 
army  had  been  disastrously  worsted  on  Long 

266 


MURRAY  HILL 


267 


Island,  and  was  in  flight;  the  leader’s  superhuman 
efforts  to  rally  his  men  were  thrillingly  described 
by  General  Greene,  who  remarked :  “  He  sought 
death,  rather  than  life.”  Meanwhile  Mrs.  Mur¬ 
ray  *  was  beguiling  and  flattering  General  Howe 
and  passing  the  good  cheer,  with  the  assurance 
that  the  Continental  troops  had  so  long  passed 
that  way  that  pursuit  was  useless;  and  Washing¬ 
ton  and  Putnam,  having  rounded  up  their  men, 
withdrew  them  in  safety  to  Harlem  Heights, 
where  was  fought  the  only  battle  of  the  Revolu¬ 
tion,  within  the  limits  of  the  present  city,  that 
resulted  in  victory  for  the  Americans.  This  suc¬ 
cess  clinched  the  dogged  determination  of  their 
commander  and  made  possible  the  brilliant  ex¬ 
ploits  at  Trenton  and  Princeton. 

The  steep,  upward  slope  of  the  Avenue  from 
the  Waldorf  Hotel  to  the  Public  Library  con¬ 
tributes  much  to  the  brilliant  effect  of  the  great 
showy  thoroughfare,  known  primitively  as  the 
backbone  of  the  island,  in  the  days  when  the  first 
John  Jacob  Astor  had  the  foresight  to  buy  the 
middle  ground,  instead  of  the  then  much  more 
desirable  East  River  shore.  At  the  commence- 

*  Mrs.  Murray,  who  died  soon  after  this  patriotic  incident,  was 
a  Miss  Lindley  of  Philadelphia,  a  famous  Quaker  belle.  Her  son 
was  Lindley  Murray,  the  grammarian. 


268  A  LOITERER  IX  NEW  YORK 


ment  of  the  present  century,  Mr.  Astor  began  in¬ 
vesting  the  profits  of  commercial  ventures  in  real 
estate  upon  Manhattan  Island,  whose  immense 
future  value  he  was  one  of  the  first  to  foresee, 
lie  bought  meadows  and  farms  in  the  track  which 
the  growth  of  the  city  would  follow,  trusting  to 
time  to  multiply  their  worth. 

The  Waldorf-Astoria  Hotel  covers  the  site  of 
two  former  Astor  residences.  The  Waldorf  was 
built  in  1893  by  William  Waldorf  Astor  upon 
the  site  of  John  Jacob’s  town  house,  while,  in 
1897,  Colonel  Astor  erected  the  Astoria  on  the 
Thirty-fourth  Street  corner  of  Fifth  Avenue,  to 
replace  his  father’s  house.  The  Waldorf  was 
called  after  the  little  village  near  Heidelberg, 
from  which  the  founder  of  the  family’s  fortune 
emigrated;  and  the  Astoria  was  named  for  his 
greatest  enterprise,  the  settlement  of  Astoria,  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Columbia  River,  the  subject  of 
Washington  Irving’s  novel  of  that  name.  The 
two  hotels  are  now  operated  under  one  manage¬ 
ment. 

The  hotels  when  built  were  considered  the  last 
word  in  sumptuous  luxury,  and  besides  being 
overlaid  with  gilt  wherever  possible,  upholstered 
in  velvet,  and  encrusted  with  marbles,  were  lav¬ 
ishly  decorated  by  the  chief  of  the  available  Amer- 


"JANUARY,”  FROM  A  SERIES  OF  MURAL  PAINTINGS  REPRESENTING  THE 
MONTHS  AND  SEASONS  IN  THE  ASTOR  GALLERY  OF  THE  WALDORF-ASTORIA  HOTEL 
BY  EDWARD  SIMMONS  (PAGE  269) 


MURRAY  HILL 


269 


ican  decorators  of  the  period;  and  some  of  these 
managed  their  work  so  skilfully,  despite  a  gen¬ 
eral  fatness  in  the  whole  voluptuous  scheme,  that 
one  room,  at  least  of  the  half  dozen  treated,  re¬ 
mains  one  of  the  fine  things  in  the  city,  in  its  con¬ 
sistent  moderation.  This  is  the  Astor  Gallery, 
designed  after  the  manner  of  the  Hotel  de  Soubise, 
in  Paris,  decorated  with  sixteen  allegorical  pen- 
dentives  representing  the  months  and  the  seasons, 
by  Edward  Simmons.  These  are  considered 
among  the  best  work  done  by  this  talented  mural 
painter,  of  which  the  city  contains  so  much.  The 
motives  are  joyous  groups  of  women  and  cupids, 
exquisitely  painted,  without  ponderous  allegory, 
but  light  and  charming  simply,  in  sentiment  as 
well  as  treatment. 

The  Astoria  restaurant  contains  murals  by  C. 
Y.  Turner;  the  Marie  Antoinette  Room,  a  ceiling 
representing  the  “  Birth  of  Venus,”  by  Will  Low; 
the  small  ballroom,  in  the  Waldorf  side,  a  ceiling 
by  Fowler,  and  lunettes  by  Armstrong;  the  Red 
Room,  or  Library,  a  frieze  by  Maynard;  while 
the  grand  ballroom,  besides  six  lunettes  by  Low, 
is  enriched  by  an  early  and  beautiful  decoration 
by  Edwin  Howland  Blashfield,  of  which  the  sub¬ 
ject — Music  and  the  Dance — is  treated  in  a  large 
oval  ceiling  panel,  in  delicate  and  charming  colour. 


270  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


A  vaulted  effect  of  sky  is  intended,  in  which  ap¬ 
pears  a  celestial  orchestra,  composed  of  two  groups 
of  half-draped  nudes — at  one  end  playing  the 
strings  and  at  the  other  the  cymbals  and  wind 
instruments,  and  crowning  a  central  figure  with 
bay. 

The  Waldorf  was  a  pioneer  in  this  country  in 
the  matter  of  hotel  decoration,  setting  a  standard 
which  newer  hotels  strove  to  reach  or  surpass. 
The  Imperial,  the  Martinique,  the  McAlpin — all 
nearby,  in  Broadway — and  the  Vanderbilt,  over 
on  Park  Avenue,  are  all  lavishly  decorated  with 
varying  success.  The  Imperial,  built  by  McKim, 
Mead,  and  White,  about  twenty-five  years  ago, 
naturally  secured  something  unusual  and  of  fine 
quality.  The  first  mural  painting  done  by  Abbey 
—that  of  Bowling  Green,  over  the  bar — was 
painted  for  Stanford  White,  who  also  commis¬ 
sioned  Thomas  W.  Dewing  to  paint  for  the  ceil¬ 
ing  of  the  small  cafe  the  circular  panel  which  was 
removed  from  that  place  about  two  years  ago  and 
replaced  by  an  inferior  work.  It  was  the  only 
mural  painting  by  Mr.  Dewing  in  the  city,  and  its 
mysterious  disappearance  from  the  hotel  for  which 
it  was  made  is  a  matter  of  much  regret.  For¬ 
tunately,  Mr.  Dewing  had  the  small  sketch,  by 
which  one  may  still  judge  the  delicacy  and  beauty 


MURRAY  HILL 


271 


of  this  panel.  The  Imperial  owns  also  a  collec¬ 
tion  of  pictures,  including  Bouguereau’s  “  Art 
and  Music.” 

The  Martinique,  built  by  Hardenbergh,  the 
architect  of  the  Waldorf-Astoria,  contains,  in  its 
Louis  XV  dining  room,  portrait  panels  by  Car- 
roll  Beckwith  and  Irving  R.  Wiles,  depicting  the 
notables  of  the  court  of  the  French  king,  and  other 
decorations  by  Charles  M.  Sheen  and  C.  Y. 
Turner. 

A  most  interesting  feature  of  the  McAlpin 
Hotel  is  the  series  of  twenty-six  tapestries  from 
the  Herter  Looms,  which  are  hung  about  the 
walls  of  the  mezzanine  gallery.  These  tapestries, 
executed  after  designs  by  Albert  Herter,  are  im¬ 
portant  as  examples  of  American  tapestry,  an 
industry  created  by  the  artist.  In  1908  Mr. 
Herter  established  the  looms  that  bear  his  name 
and  started  to  weave  tapestries  of  the  kind  made 
in  the  Netherland  in  the  time  of  Charles  V.  The 
panels  in  the  Hotel  McAlpin  picture  the  story  of 
New  York  from  earliest  times.  In  texture  they 
aim  to  reproduce  the  low-warp  fabric  of  the  golden 
age  of  tapestry. 

The  lunettes  in  the  lobby  of  the  hotel  are  by 
Gilbert  White,  who  made  the  decorations  for  the 
court-house  in  New  Haven  and  the  state  capitol 


272  A  LOITERER  IX  NEW  YORK 


of  Kentucky.  In  the  bar  are  tiny  lunettes  by 
Sperry. 

The  Knickerbocker  Trust  Company,  that  mas¬ 
sive  white  building  on  the  upper  side  of  Thirty- 
fourth  Street,  opposite  the  Waldorf-Astoria,  re¬ 
places  the  “  marble  palace  ”  of  Alexander  T. 
Stewart,  the  first  of  New  York’s  merchant  princes, 
which  stood  scarcely  a  quarter  of  a  century. 
Stewart  never  lived  in  it,  but  his  widow  resided 
there  until  her  death,  in  1880,  when  the  house 
passed  into  public  life.  The  Knickerbocker  Trust 
Building  is  one  of  many  designed  by  McKim, 
Mead,  and  White  which  contribute  to  the  beauty 
of  the  Avenue.  The  Gorham  Building,  with  its 
fine  cornice,  repeating  that  of  the  Strozzi  Palace 
of  Florence,  itself  copied  from  a  Roman  antique, 
is  one  of  the  handsomest;  the  Tiffany  Building  is 
less  successful  in  its  somewhat  perverse  adapta¬ 
tion  of  the  architectural  features  of  the  Casa 
Grimani,  of  the  Grand  Canal,  in  Venice.  This 
noble  example  of  florid  Italian  Renaissance,  the 
chef  d'oeuvre  of  Sanmieheli,  has  itself  been  criti¬ 
cized  for  monotony  in  the  repetition  of  its  second 
and  third  stories;  though  Ruskin  calls  it  “  the  prin¬ 
cipal  type  in  Venice  and  one  of  the  best  in  Europe 
of  the  Renaissance  schools.”  The  Xew  York  ver¬ 
sion  is  doubly  monotonous,  many  of  the  hand- 


“cattle  fair,  bowling  green/'  from  a  tapestry  in  the  mcalpin  hotel 

BY  ALBERT  HERTER  ( PAGE  2“l) 


“THE  JEWELS,”  BY  GILBERT  WHITE 

DECORATION  IN  THE  LOBBY,  MCALPIN  HOTEL  (PAGE  27l) 


MURRAY  HILL 


273 


some,  striking  features  of  the  old  Reale  Corte 
d’  Appello,  such  as  the  fine  entrance  with  the 
sculpture  in  the  spandrels,  the  fluted  (instead  of 
plain)  pilasters  and  columns,  the  central  windows 
in  the  upper  stories,  and  the  charming  disposition 
of  the  other  windows — having  been  changed  or 
suppressed  for  the  advantage  of  commerce. 
Ruskin  could  not  have  written  of  the  Tiffany 
Building  as  he  wrote  of  its  prototype:  “  There  is 
not  an  erring  fine,  not  a  mistaken  proportion 
throughout  its  noble  front.” 

The  Herald  Building,  which  has  long  stood 
concealed  behind  the  shanties  of  the  construction 
company  engaged  in  building  the  new  subway 
lines,  is  one  of  Stanford  White’s  most  famous 
adaptations.  Inspired  by  the  exquisite  Palazzo 
del  Consiglio,  of  Verona,  it  repeats  indeed  most 
accurately  much  of  the  detail  of  the  Old  Town 
Hall  or  Loggia,  as  it  is  usually  called.  This 
ancient  building,  designed  by  Giocondo,  and  a 
famous  example  of  early  Renaissance,  was  re¬ 
stored  four  centuries  after  its  erection,  in  1876, 
just  prior  to  White’s  period  of  study  in  Europe, 
whence  he  returned,  filled  with  enthusiasm  for  the 
masterpieces  of  Italian  architecture.  The  original 
is  much  smaller  and  quite  different  in  proportion. 
Its  fa9ade  is  crowned  with  statutes  of  eminent 


274  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


natives  of  Verona;  these  White  has  replaced,  in 
his  copy,  by  a  row  of  owls,  whose  electric  eyes  are 
supposed  to  blink  the  hours,  and  the  bronze  clock 
with  mechanical  figures  surmounted  by  Minerva. 
The  clock  was  made  by  a  French  sculptor,  An¬ 
tonin  Jean  Carles,  and  Minerva  was  exhibited  at 
the  Salon  of  1894.  Condemned  to  the  endless 
activities  of  the  newspaper  world,  planted  in  the 
thick  of  congested  traffic,  and  now  obliterated  by 
the  upheavals  of  the  underground  road,  the  ghost 
of  the  Palazzo  del  Consiglio  seems  reproachfully 
to  quote :  “  To  what  base  uses  may  we  return  at 
last!” 

Of  White’s  meticulous  care  in  the  detail  and 
finish  of  his  work,  we  have  a  beautiful  example 
in  the  restoration  and  embellishment  of  Renwick’s 
Church  of  St.  Bartholomew,  on  Madison  Avenue 
for  the  moment,  but  about  to  remove  to  a  new 
edifice  on  Park  Avenue,  of  which  Goodhue  is  the 
architect.  Few  remember  the  unpretentions  little 
church  erected  here  in  1865,  on  the  outskirts  of 
the  growing  city.  Its  improvements  brought  it 
into  prominence  about  twenty  years  ago,  when 
some  members  of  the  wealthy  congregation  wished 
to  present  the  bronze  doors,  now  a  feature  of  the 
front,  in  order  to  keep  pace  with  the  gifts  to 
Trinity  Church,  downtown.  When  the  scheme 


MURRAY  HILL 


275 


was  first  projected,  it  appeared  that  the  plain 
modern  Renaissance  design  would  not  support  the 
elegance  of  six  highly  wrought  surfaces  of  bronze; 
and  a  rich  portal  was  designed  for  each  one  of  the 
three  doorways.  The  next  problem  was  to  con¬ 
nect  these  ornate  masses,  and  the  triple  porch  was 
built  to  bind  the  three  elaborate  entrances  to¬ 
gether  into  one  composition.  The  harmonious 
effect  of  the  altered  ensemble  is  very  creditable 
to  the  skill  of  the  architects,  Messrs.  McKim, 
Mead,  and  White,  to  whom  the  elaboration  of 
the  facade  is  due.  The  general  design  and  treat¬ 
ment  follows  the  wonderful  portals  of  Arles 
and  Saint  Gilles  in  Languedoc,  in  the  south  of 
France. 

Much  of  the  sculptured  detail  is  the  design  of 
the  architects  themselves,  but  the  main  features 
were  given  to  three  sculptors.  Andrew  O’Connor 
designed  the  main  doorway,  with  its  enriched 
architraves  and  pilasters,  its  highly  wrought  lintel 
for  the  doorway  proper,  its  storied  tympanum,  and 
the  doors  themselves.  O’Connor  made  also,  in 
its  entirety,  the  broad  frieze,  in  two  short  lengths, 
which  flank  the  opening  of  the  middle  doorway — a 
colourful  band  of  sculpture,  in  the  more  modern 
spirit,  which,  more  than  any  other  detail  of  the 
design,  excites  critical  interest.  The  south  door. 


276  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


with  its  rich  tympanum  and  accessories,  is  by 
Herbert  Adams,  and  the  north  portal,  its  ana¬ 
chronistic  tympanum  inspired  by  Luca  della  Rob¬ 
bia,  is  the  design  of  Philip  Martiny. 

A  roseate  impression  of  the  Ascension  fills  the 
west  wall  of  the  church,  done  by  Francis  Lathrop, 
his  hand  evidently  guided  by  the  architect,  to 
judge  from  the  subordination  of  the  painting  to 
the  setting,  which  rather  overshadows  it  in  colour 
and  quality.  The  colour  of  the  picture  repeats  the 
scheme  of  the  marbles,  employed  in  the  altar,  with 
an  oversweet  harmony,  and  the  eye,  seeking  relief, 
constantly  travels  to  the  handsome  architectural 
frame  in  which  Lathrop’s  painting  is  placed. 
This,  overlaid  with  gold,  is  in  character  with  the 
richly  carved  capitals  of  the  marble  columns  sup¬ 
porting  the  roof,  and  other  details  of  architecture, 
unmistakably  bearing  the  hall-mark  of  White’s 
taste,  for  his  festhetic  standards  were  of  the 
highest. 

How  many  of  the  enrichments  of  St.  Barthol¬ 
omew’s  will  be  preserved  in  the  new  structure 
time  will  tell.  It  has  been  promised  that  the  doors 
and  the  sculpture,  where  possible,  will  have  place 
there,  but  much  of  the  beauty  of  the  present 
church  will  necessarily  be  useless,  and  it  seems  a 
great  pity  that  this  rather  charming  and  certainly 


“new  testament,”  frieze,  st.  Bartholomew’s  church 
ANDREW  O’CONNOR,  SCULPTOR 


“OLD  TESTAMENT.”  FRIEZE,  ST.  BARTHOLOMEW’S  CHURCH 
ANDREW  O’CONNOR,  SCULPTOR 


“THE  PROPHETS.”  VANDERBILT  DOOR,  ST.  BARTHOLOMEW’S  CHURCH 
ANDREW  O’CONNOR,  SCULPTOR 


MURRAY  HILL 


277 


very  interesting  little  place  of  worship  should  be 
demolished,  after  so  short  a  sojourn  in  our  midst. 
But  the  king  is  dead!  Long  live  the  king!  The 
new  church  is  to  be  very  beautiful,  and  New  York 
has  no  time  for  sentiment. 

The  Brick  Presbyterian  Church  seems  a  sorry 
anachronism  in  the  present  aspect  of  Fifth  Ave¬ 
nue,  where  it  stands  perversely,  sole  relic  of  the 
vintage  of  the  “  fifties  ”  of  the  last  century,  replac¬ 
ing  that  spectacular  mansion,  or  castle,  of  Coventry 
Waddell,  who,  enriched  by  the  fortunes  of  Andrew 
Jackson’s  administration,  balanced  momentarily, 
as  it  were,  this  freakish  Gothic  bauble  on  a  prom¬ 
ontory  of  the  old  country  road  that  extended 
beyond  Madison  Square  in  about  the  year  1845. 
“  Waddell’s  Caster,”  an  unfeeling  brother  dubbed 
it  with  uncompromising  humour,  comparing  its 
towers,  orioles,  and  gables  to  the  vinegar  cruets, 
mustard  pots,  and  general  equipment  of  the  orna¬ 
mental  table  service,  long  since  abolished  by  so¬ 
phisticated  authorities  on  the  art  of  correct  dining. 
Though  it  stood  less  than  a  decade,  Waddell’s 
Caster  cut  a  figure  in  its  day,  and  appears  in  all 
the  bravery  of  its  original  architecture  in  many 
old  prints  of  the  city.  Mr.  Waddell  lost  his 
fortune  in  the  financial  crash  that  preceded  the 
Civil  War,  and,  obliged  to  sacrifice  his  estate',  the 


278  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


house  was  demolished  and  the  grounds  levelled  to 
make  way  for  the  encroaching  city. 

It  is  difficult  to  visualize  the  effect  of  the  desul¬ 
tory  country  road,  now  Fifth  Avenue,  in  the  year 
1854,  when  the  old  Brick  Presbyterian  Church, 
having  once  removed  from  its  first  location  in 
Wall  Street,  dating  from  1707,  to  a  spacious  lot 
in  Beekman  Street,  overlooking  City  Hall  Park, 
was  again  forced  to  go  farther  afield  to  catch  up 
with  a  receding  residence  quarter.  The  new 
church,  finished  in  1858,  stood  as  an  outpost  of 
the  advancing  city,  upon  a  part  of  the  Waddell 
tract.  When,  in  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  cen¬ 
tury,  Murray  Hill  was  suddenly  seized  upon  as 
desirable  for  residence,  land  values  increased  by 
leaps  and  bounds.  In  nine  years  the  property 
for  which  Mr.  Waddell  had  paid  only  $9,150  had 
advanced  to  $80,000,  and  the  church  for  its  por¬ 
tion  was  obliged  to  pay  $58,000. 

A  new  fashion  in  domestic  architecture  was  at 
this  time  just  making  its  appearance  in  residence 
districts,  superseding  the  fine  old  red  brick  houses 
in  the  London  style;  these  nowT  began  to  be 
replaced  bv  the  brown-stone  fronts  with  high 
“  stoops,”  so  detrimental  to  the  aspect  of  the  city, 
and  of  which  they  were  for  many  years  a  salient 
characteristic. 


MURRAY  HILL 


279 


The  Brick  Church — though  committed  to  the 
material  indicated  by  its  original  name,  which  there 
was  no  thought  of  changing — in  deference  to  the 
accepted  fashion  of  the  day  composed  its  base  and 
trimmings  and  the  greater  part  of  the  steeple  of 
brownstone.  The  tower  contained  the  old  Beek- 
man  Street  bell  and  clock,  and  the  architecture 
followed  in  its  details  the  late  classic,  with  the 
severe  and  barren  effect  of  a  formal  New  Eng¬ 
land  meeting  house. 

The  exterior  presents  essentially  the  same  ap¬ 
pearance  as  in  the  days  when  it  counted  as  a 
feature  of  the  upper  Avenue,  but  when  the  cele¬ 
brated  pastor,  Henry  Van  Dyke,  was  called,  about 
1883,  it  was  felt  that  the  interior  needed  restora¬ 
tion,  and  this,  by  some  beneficent  chance,  was 
turned  over  bodily  to  John  La  Farge,  already  a 
person  of  some  consequence  in  the  field  of  art. 
The  result  is  a  most  bewildering  paradox.  Out¬ 
side  the  prim,  austere  meeting  house;  inside  the 
plain,  strict  surfaces  structurally  the  same,  but 
embroidered  and  embellished,  after  the  manner 
of  the  early  Italian  churches,  from  the  eighth  to 
the  tenth  centuries. 

La  Farge  applied  himself  to  the  plain  interior 
with  an  unbridled  hand.  In  its  way  its  plainness 
was  its  great  advantage,  for  it  gave  La  Farge  a 


280  A  LOITERER  IX  NEW  YORK 


base  of  operations  comparatively  untrammelled. 
The  decoration  follows  closely  that  of  the  Cathe¬ 
dral  of  Torcello  *  and  other  churches  of  the  same 
period,  or  earlier,  in  Ravenna,  Venice,  and  else¬ 
where  in  Italy. 

In  the  decoration  mosaic  of  various  colours  is 
combined  with  relief  work  in  majolica,  a  product 
of  the  Minton  manufactory  imported  from  Eng¬ 
land.  Even  the  embroideries  in  the  curtains  and 
drapery  for  the  reading  desk  were  designed  by 
La  Farge  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  ensemble, 
and  he  made  the  lanterns  and  the  geometric  win¬ 
dows,  the  elaborate  organ  loft,  the  rail  of  the 
gallery,  and  every  minute  decorated  detail  of  this 
remarkable  interior.  The  ceiling  and  cornice  are 
important,  bearing  a  rich,  symbolic  design  in  som¬ 
bre  colours  on  a  background  of  dull,  weathered 
gold  which  enhance  an  effect  of  extraordinary 
beauty  and  interest.  The  congregation  was  well 
satisfied,  and  accepted  easily  the  distinction  of 
possessing  in  this  exotic  interior  what  was  consid¬ 
ered  one  of  the  most  important  examples  of  deco¬ 
rative  art  in  America;  they  had  given  La  Farge 
a  free  hand,  and  they  did  not  question  so  specious 
a  result.  The  artist,  on  the  other  hand,  made  of 
the  church  a  glorious  experiment,  developing  the 

*  1008. 


MURRAY  HILL 


281 


possibilities  of  his  glass  to  the  utmost.  Like  an 
industrious  spider,  he  spun  his  beautiful  webs 
wherever  he  could  get  foothold;  but  if  this  par¬ 
ticular  attachment  seems  peculiarly  unsuited  to 
his  medium,  one  can  at  least  admire  the  ingenuity 
with  which  ends  were  met,  so  that  even  when  the 
thought  comes,  as  come  it  must,  of  the  irrelevancy 
of  the  whole  decoration  to  the  thing  decorated,  it 
comes  with  no  shock,  but  is  borne  in  softly  upon 
the  inner  consciousness  as  the  glowing  interior 
gradually  asserts  itself  in  the  dim  light  with  which 
it  is  usually  pervaded. 

While  Boston  is  richest  in  the  works  of  John 
La  Farge,  New  York  preserves  much  of  the  pro¬ 
lific  output  of  this  distinguished  artist,  in  private 
houses  as  well  as  in  the  several  contemporary 
churches  treated  by  him.  The  famous  Peony 
window  made  for  the  Marquand  house  is  now 
owned  by  Mrs.  Bliss,  for  whom  La  Farge  made  a 
wonderful  cloissonne  window;  and  some  fine  work 
was  also  done  for  Mrs.  Payne  Whitney.  Less 
well  known  than  the  chef  d’oeuvre  in  the  Church 
of  the  Ascension  are  the  panels  representing  the 
“Nativity  of  Christ”  and  the  “Adoration  of  the 
Magi  ”  by  this  artist  in  the  chancel  of  the  Church 
of  the  Incarnation,  on  Madison  Avenue,  not  far 
from  the  Brick  Church.  These  are  handsome  and 


282  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


strong — in  a  way  more  vigourous  than  the  highly 
finished  decoration  of  the  “  Ascension.”  They 
are,  however,  badly  set,  one  each  side  of  a  white 
Gothic  altar,  which  fills  the  eye  to  the  detriment 
of  the  panels.  The  two  windows  by  La  Farge 
in  this  church  are  early  examples  of  no  great 
importance. 

The  embellishment  of  the  Church  of  the  Incar¬ 
nation  seems  to  have  been  pursued  without  defi¬ 
nite  plan,  and  the  result  is  more  curious  than 
pleasing.  Most  of  the  windows  are  English,  sev¬ 
eral  are  by  Henry  Holiday,  a  close  follower  of 
Burne-Jones,  whose  methods  were  diametrically 
opposed  to  those  of  La  Farge,  so  that  it  is  un¬ 
fortunate  for  the  ensemble  that  the  work  of  the 
two  artists  should  he  thus  juxtaposed.  There  are 
two  small  memorial  windows  of  little  consequence 
from  the  establishment  of  William  Morris.  The 
Romanesque  monument,  on  the  north  side  of  the 
church,  to  the  memory  of  Henry  E.  Montgomery, 
was  designed  by  the  late  Henry  IT.  Richardson, 
the  architect  of  Trinity  Church,  Boston,  and  the 
bronze  medallion  and  inscription  plates  were  exe¬ 
cuted  by  Augustus  Saint  Gaudens.  Louis  Saint 
Gaudens  made  the  sculpture  for  the  font,  sur¬ 
mounted  by  a  figure  of  John  the  Baptist,  and  the 
bas-relief  representing  the  Church  Militant  and 


Copyright  by  John  La  Fargo 
WELCOME,”  WINDOW  IN  RESIDENCE  OF 
MRS.  GEORGE  T.  BLISS,  9  EAST  68th  STREET 
BY  JOHN  LA  FARGE  (PAGE  281) 


Copyright  by  John  La  Farge 
MEMORIAL  WINDOW  TO  EDWIN  BOOTH 
CHURCH  OF  THE  TRANSFIGURATION 
BY  JOHN  LA  FARGE  (PAGE  283) 


MURRAY  HILL 


283 


the  Church  Triumphant.  The  relief  portrait  of 
Phillips  Brooks  is  by  W.  Clark  Noble,  sculptor. 

La  Farge  is  again  represented,  and  rather 
charmingly,  in  that  strange,  rambling  old  Church 
of  the  Transfiguration,  in  Twenty-ninth  Street, 
better  known  and  loved  as  the  “  Little  Church 
Around  the  Corner.”  From  it  have  been  buried 
Wallack,  Booth,  and  Boucicault,  and  in  it  “  The 
Players  ”  erected  their  memorial  window  to  Ed¬ 
win  Booth,  in  1898.  La  Farge  made  it  in  his 
freest  manner.  It  shows  a  seated  figure,  repre¬ 
senting  a  medieval  histrionic  student,  his  gaze  fixed 
upon  a  mask  held  in  his  hand.  Below  is  Booth’s 
favourite  quotation: 

“As  one  in  suffering  all 
That  suffers  nothing: 

A  man  that  fortune’s  buffets  and  rewards 
Has  taken  with  equal  thanks.” — Hamlet  III.  2. 

The  Church  of  the  Transfiguration  has  been 
accepted  warmly  by  the  theatrical  profession  ever 
since  the  funeral  of  George  Holland,  one  of  the 
favourite  actors  of  Wallack’s  Theatre,  was  held 
in  that  church.  The  story  of  a  neighbouring  rec¬ 
tor’s  refusal  to  perform  the  funeral  rites  over  the 
body  because  Mr.  Holland  had  been  an  actor  is 
movingly  described  by  Joseph  Jefferson  in  his 
reminiscences.  Mr.  Jefferson,  accompanied  by 


284  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


one  of  George  Holland’s  sons,  went  in  quest  of  a 
minister  to  officiate.  “  On  arriving  at  the  house,” 
says  Mr.  Jefferson,  “  I  explained  to  the  reverend 
gentleman  the  nature  of  my  visit,  and  arrange¬ 
ments  were  made  for  the  time  and  place  at  which 
the  funeral  was  to  be  held.  Something,  I  can 
scarcely  say  what,  gave  me  the  impression  that  I 
had  best  mention  that  Mr.  Holland  was  an  actor. 
I  did  so  in  a  few  words,  and  concluded  by  presum¬ 
ing  that  probably  this  would  make  no  difference. 
I  saw,  however,  by  the  restrained  manner  of  the 
minister  and  an  unmistakable  change  in  the  ex¬ 
pression  of  his  face,  that  it  would  make,  at  least 
to  him,  a  great  deal  of  difference.  After  some 
hesitation  he  said  that  he  would  be  compelled,  if 
Mr.  Holland  had  been  an  actor,  to  decline  hold¬ 
ing  the  service  at  the  church. 

“  While  his  refusal  to  perform  the  funeral  rites 
for  my  old  friend  would  have  shocked,  under  ordi¬ 
nary  circumstances,  the  fact  that  it  was  made  in 
the  presence  of  the  dead  man’s  son  was  more 
painful  than  I  can  describe.  I  turned  to  look 
at  the  youth  and  saw  that  his  eyes  were  filled 
with  tears.  He  stood  as  one  dazed  with  a  blow 
just  realized;  as  if  he  felt  the  terrible  injustice 
of  a  reproach  upon  the  kind  and  loving  father 
who  had  often  kissed  him  in  his  sleep  and  had 


MURRAY  HILL 


285 


taken  him  on  his  lap  when  a  boy  old  enough  to 
know  the  meaning  of  the  words  and  told  him  to 
grow  up  to  be  an  honest  lad.  I  was  hurt  for  my 
young  friend  and  indignant  with  the  man — too 
much  so  to  reply,  and  as  I  rose  to  leave  the  room 
with  a  mortification  that  I  cannot  remember  to 
have  felt  before  or  since,  I  paused  at  the  door  and 
said:  ‘  Well,  sir,  in  this  dilemma,  is  there  no  other 
church  to  which  you  can  direct  me  from  which 
my  friend  can  be  buried?  ’ 

“  He  replied  that  ‘  There  was  a  little  church 
around  the  corner  ’  where  I  might  get  it  done — to 
which  I  answered,  ‘  Then  if  this  be  so,  God  bless 
the  Little  Church  Around  the  Corner,’  and  so  I 
left  the  house.” 

A  bit  of  old  world,  forgotten  here,  the  low, 
rambling  structure  set  within  a  garden  whose  en¬ 
trance  is  marked  by  a  lich  gate,  unique  in  this 
country,  is  full  of  poetic  feeling.  The  simplicity, 
the  sincerity  of  the  dim  interior  lend  essentially 
to  the  highest  personal  expression  of  the  devo¬ 
tional  spirit.  It  has  the  charm  of  a  place  dwelt 
in  harmoniously,  worshipped  in  abundantly,  em¬ 
bellished  lovingly. 


XIV 


THE  AVENUE 

lx  its  northward  course  Fifth  Avenue  marks 
two  imposing  centres — one  of  trade,  the  other  of 
fashion,  and  both  architecturally  enriched  by  the 
work  of  Messrs.  Carrere  and  Hastings.  If  the 
Plaza,  with  Bitter’s  “  Fountain  of  Abundance,” 
makes  a  pivot  for  the  circlings  of  the  gay  world, 
the  Public  Library  tits  no  less  snugly  into  the 
heart  of  the  busy  shopping  district,  and  seems 
most  fortunately  placed,  both  for  looks  and  service. 

Directly  succeeding  the  granitic  mass  of  the  old 
Reservoir,  it  owes  the  spaciousness  of  its  setting 
to  the  happy  accident  which  reserved,  from  early 
days,  the  summit  of  Murray  Hill  as  city  property. 
Long  before  Fifth  Avenue  came  into  corporeal 
being,  the  land  upon  which  Bryant  Park  and  the 
Library  are  now  situated  was  bought  by  the  city' 
for  a  potter’s  field.  After  1842  the  park  was 
known  as  Reservoir  Square,  in  honour  of  the  first 
distributing  reservoir  of  the  Croton  Aqueduct,  the 
same  whose  overflow  found  vent  in  the  sumptuous 

286 


THE  AVENUE 


287 


fountain  of  Union  Square.  In  the  western  part 
of  the  park  the  Crystal  Palace,  built  upon  the 
type  of  the  famous  Crystal  Palace  of  London,  to 
house  our  first  world’s  fair,  was  opened  in  1853. 
These  were  the  “sights  ”  of  those  days;  the  Res¬ 
ervoir  marked  the  objective  of  northward  walks, 
for  from  the  height  of  its  curious  Egyptian  walls 
an  extensive  view  was  obtainable. 

The  Crystal  Palace  burned  up  after  five  years’ 
glorious  extravagance,  for  the  enterprise  never 
paid,  burying  in  its  ruins  the  rich  collection  of  the 
American  Institute  Fair.  The  Reservoir  stood 
until  1900,  when  the  civic  corporation  gathered 
into  grand  alliance  the  minor  libraries  of  the 
town  and  the  Astor,  Lenox,  and  Tilden  founda¬ 
tions  were  combined  to  make  the  New  York 
Public  Library. 

It  was  doubtless  indirectly  due  to  his  intimacy 
with  Washington  Irving  that  John  Jacob  Astor 
founded  the  library  which  bears  his  name,  incor¬ 
porated  in  1849,  with  Irving  as  first  president. 
The  building  in  Lafayette  Place  was  for  many 
years  one  of  the  literary  landmarks  of  New  York, 
and  still  stands,  untenanted,  opposite  the  rapidly 
disappearing  Colonnade  Row,  and  equally  marked, 
no  doubt,  for  speedy  demolition. 

Ten  years  before  his  death,  in  1870,  James 


288  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Lenox,  one  of  America’s  greatest  book  collectors, 
gave  to  the  city  of  his  birth  his  books  and  his  art 
treasures  and  a  liberal  endowment  fund  for  the 
maintenance  of  the  Lenox  Library,  now  replaced 
by  Mr.  Frick’s  palatial  residence.  Both  the  Astor 
and  the  Lenox  Libraries  were  for  reference, 
merely,  and  it  was  not  until  the  city  received  the 
munificent  Tilden  bequest,  which  more  than 
doubled  its  endowment  fund,  and  added  materially 
to  its  collections,  that  provision  was  made  for  a 
circulation  department,  and  the  new  corporation 
was  established.  The  question  of  a  site  for  the 
building  was  happily  settled  by  the  existence,  in 
the  heart  of  the  city,  of  this  large  piece  of  city 
property,  unencumbered  save  for  the  old,  disused 
reservoir. 

In  a  competition  held  in  1897  to  decide  upon  the 
architect  for  the  Library,  the  design  of  Messrs. 
Carrere  and  Hastings,  of  New  York,  was  chosen, 
and  that  firm  awarded  the  commission  for  its  erec¬ 
tion.  The  building  is  monumental  and  imposing 
in  the  eighteenth  century  French  style.  Designed 
to  face  the  Avenue,  it  sets  well  back  from  the 
street,  within  a  dignified  approach,  and  raised  suf¬ 
ficiently,  by  means  of  its  terrace  and  steps,  to  give 
it  just  the  right  note  of  reserve  and  distinction. 
The  warm  colour  of  the  Vermont  marble,  taken 


“romance.”  one  of  six  figures  on  the  attic 

OF  THE  NEW  YORK  PUBLIC  LIBRARY 
BY  PAUL  WAYLAND  BARTLETT  (PAGE  289) 


THE  NEW  YORK  PUBLIC  LIBRARY 
CARRERE  AND  HASTINGS,  ARCHITECTS 
ERECTING  THE  BARTLETT  STATUES 
TO  THE  ATTIC  (PAGE  289) 


THE  AVENUE 


289 


together  with  the  building’s  fine  lateral  expan¬ 
sion — the  “  seated  ”  look,  as  James  expressed  it — 
and  the  interest  added  to  an  already  agreeable 
fa£ade  by  the  spirited  sculpture,  in  the  French 
decorative  style,  there  applied,  express  hospital¬ 
ity  and  give  to  this  rather  fascinating  part  of 
town  a  central  point  of  interest  and  beauty. 
Against  its  stable  bulk  picturesque  effects  are 
possible;  and  the  live,  human  quality  that  is  New 
York’s  most  appealing  asset  comes  here  into 
pleasing  prominence. 

The  effective  note  in  the  building,  emphasizing 
its  Louis  XVI  feeling,  is  the  treatment  of  the 
attic  story,  above  the  main  entrance,  where  have 
recently  been  placed  the  six  figures — History, 
Drama,  Poetry,  Religion,  Romance,  and  Philoso¬ 
phy — by  Paul  Wayland  Bartlett.  Made  in  the 
sculptor’s  studio  in  the  rue  Commandeur,  Paris, 
these  figures  have  distinctly  the  French  feeling, 
and  lend  colour  and  vivacity  to  the  lines  of  the 
fa9ade,  where,  because  they  present  a  departure 
from  the  accepted  pseudo-classic  type,  current  in 
the  sculpture  of  our  public  buildings,  they  have 
excited  controversy  and  proved  quite  a  shock  to 
the  complacency  of  public  taste.  If  they  are  a 
little  strong  for  their  place,  on  an  unusually  nar¬ 
row  plinth,  any  flattening  of  their  surfaces,  in  the 


290  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


traditional  classic  manner,  would  have  destroyed 
the  very  element  for  which  they  were  created — the 
colour  and  vivacity,  the  spirit  and  animation  of  an 
otherwise  rather  conventional  front.  But  the 
public  abhors  change;  all  it  asks  is  to  rest  in  the 
security  of  accepted  tradition — not  to  be  made  to 
think. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  when  Carpeaux 
made  his  famous  group,  La  Danse,  for  the  Paris 
Opera,  it  was  so  at  variance  with  the  habits  of 
popular  taste  that  even  the  architect  disliked  it, 
and  ordered  another  group  from  a  different 
sculptor,  hut  Carpeaux’  death,  which  occurred  at 
this  critical  moment,  caused  a  revulsion  of  popular 
feeling  in  favour  of  his  work  and  the  group  was 
allowed  to  remain.  It  is  now  considered  the  great 
redeeming  feature  of  the  Opera  House. 

So  Mr.  Bartlett’s  figures  were  not  accepted 
without  some  discussion.  Ilis  first  charming  con¬ 
ception  of  Romance  was  refused  on  the  same 
amazing  charge  as  that  made  against  MacMonnies’ 
“  Bacchante,”  rejected  by  the  Boston  Public  Li¬ 
brary — indecency.  The  original  Romance  is  a 
figure  of  rare  poetic  beauty,  a  very  flower  of 
sculpture;  had  the  architects  had  courage  to  place 
it,  it  would  have  made  the  enduring  glory  of  the 
building.  Even  in  its  modified  form,  as  it  stands 


THE  AVENUE 


291 


on  the  attic  story,  the  figure  is  especially  free 
and  delightful;  rarely  expressive  in  its  youth  and 
grace. 

The  extraordinary  effect  of  high  relief  in  these 
figures  is  the  more  remarkable  when  we  know 
some  of  the  difficulties  which  the  problem  pre¬ 
sented.  The  plinth  upon  which  they  stand  is  but 
one  foot  wide.  They  are  ten  feet  six  inches 
in  height  by  one  foot  six  inches  at  their  greatest 
depth.  Some  additional  space  was  made  for  the 
draperies  that  blow  against  the  wall  behind  them, 
by  cutting  into  the  face  of  that  wall.  Mr. 
Bartlett’s  original  design  showed,  instead  of 
the  upright  pairs  of  figures,  groups  conceived  to 
give  further  variety  to  the  fa9ade.  History  and 
Philosophy  were  to  have  stood,  as  now  at  the 
ends,  with  Drama  and  Poetry,  Religion  and 
Romance  linked  together  in  two  effective  composi¬ 
tions;  but  this  was  too  great  a  departure  from 
tradition,  and  as  they  stand  the  six  figures  carry 
out  the  lines  of  the  supporting  columns  under 
them. 

The  Library  has  been  nearly  twenty  years 
under  way.  During  that  time,  many  important 
things  have  occurred,  bearing  directly  upon  its 
fortunes.  The  Art  Commission  was  formed  the 
year  after  the  plans  were  accepted.  Saint 


292  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Gaudens,  who  was  to  have  directed  the  choice  of 
sculptors  and  supervised  the  work,  died  ten  years 
later.  The  original  scheme  divided  the  figures 
amongst  as  many  sculptors  as  possible,  and  only 
the  tact  and  courage  of  the  architects  spared 
us  a  repetition  of  the  fiasco  of  the  Appellate 
Court. 

Three  other  sculptors  are  represented  on  the 
Library’s  main  front:  Mr.  Potter,  by  the  heroic 
lions  that  flank  the  entrance;  Mr.  Barnard,  by 
the  pediments  in  the  ends;  and  Mr.  MacMonnies, 
by  the  fountains  at  each  side  of  the  entrance. 
These  last  will  represent  the  sculptor’s  latest  work 
in  a  city  where  he  is  already  prolifically  and 
splendidly  in  evidence.  The  staff  models,  erected 
in  place,  recall  the  Trevi  fountain  in  Rome,  the 
figures — Truth  and  Beauty — being  placed  within 
niches  in  half  reclining  poses,  while  the  water, 
flowing  from  beneath  the  pedestals,  fills  the  basins 
in  front. 

The  Library  houses  an  important  collection  of 
paintings  and  prints.  The  paintings,  maintained 
by  the  institution,  but  not  increased,  comprise  the 
o-ifts  of  three  donors:  James  Lenox,  whose  col- 

O 

lection  of  about  fifty  paintings  was  presented,  in 
1877;  the  Robert  L.  .Stuart  collection  of  about 
246  paintings,  bequeathed  by  Mrs.  Stuart,  in 


THE  AVENUE 


293 


1892;  and  some  of  John  Jacob  Astor’s  pictures, 
presented  by  William  Waldorf  Astor,  in  1896. 

The  Stuart  Gallery  is  typical  of  the  taste  of 
collectors  of  its  period,  which  dealt  exclusively 
with  foreign  artists  of  salon  fame,  a  few  Barbison 
painters,  and  our  own  Hudson  River  men.  The 
Lenox  collection  is  more  eclectic,  containing,  be¬ 
sides  many  fine  eighteenth  century  portraits,  a 
number  of  interesting  examples  of  the  American 
school  that  developed  along  those  lines.  There  is 
a  beautiful  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  representing 
Mrs.  Billington  as  Saint  Cecilia,  listening  to  the 
celestial  choir.  Apropos  of  this  picture,  Haydn 
is  supposed  to  have  gallantly  suggested  that  the 
angels  would  have  been  better  employed  in  listen¬ 
ing  to  Mrs.  Billington.  Amongst  the  early 
American  portraits  are  those  of  David  Garrick, 
by  Robert  Edge  Pine;  Robert  Lenox,  by  Trum¬ 
bull;  a  charming  unfinished  head  of  Mrs.  Robert 
Morris,  by  Gilbert  Stuart;  a  portrait  of  Wash¬ 
ington,  by  James  Peale;  a  fine  Copley,  of  Mrs. 
Robert  Hooper;  and  two  delightful  portraits  by 
Morse,  one  of  Fitz-Greene  Halleck  and  the  orig¬ 
inal  study  for  the  portrait  of  Lafayette,  in  City 
Hall.  With  the  Lenox  pictures  came  also  the 
original  bust  of  Alexander  Hamilton,  by  Cer- 
racchi,  the  Roman  sculptor,  who  visited  this  coun- 


294  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


try  after  the  close  of  the  Revolution  with  the  idea 
of  interesting  congress  in  a  monument  to  Liberty, 
which  he  had  designed  for  our  special  delectation, 
and  his  own  aggrandizement. 

Between  the  Library  and  the  Plaza,  Fifth 
Avenue  reveals  its  most  brilliant  aspect,  wears 
its  most  opulent  effect.  Though  business  has 
taken  firm  foothold  in  this  more  rarefied  section, 
driving  the  ultrafashionable  beyond  Fifty-ninth 
Street,  the  shops,  extending  quite  up  to  Central 
Park,  vie  with  the  clubs,  residences,  and  churches 
in  architectural  interest.  Many  of  the  better  class 
art  dealers  have  established  themselves  here,  and 
exhibitions  flourish  throughout  the  season.  The 
buildings,  erected  by  the  firm  of  Carrcre  and 
Hastings,  for  Black,  Starr,  and  Frost,  and  for 
Knoedler,  are  in  excellent  taste,  and  the  Duveen 
house  is  highly  ornamental  to  the  street.  The 
latter  transports  to  Fifth  Avenue  a  handsome 
bit  of  French  architecture,  the  work  of  Monsieur 
Rene  Sergent,  of  Paris,  and  Mr.  Horace  Trum- 
bauer,  of  Philadelphia. 

The  Temple  Emanu-El,  considered  a  fine 
example  of  Moorish  architecture,  designed  by 
Leopold  Eidlitz,  dates  from  1868. 

One  of  the  many  features  of  this  part  of  the 
Avenue,  and  the  most  celebrated,  is  St.  Patrick's 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT,  BY  HERBERT  ADAMS 
BRYANT  PARK  (PAGE  292) 


THE  AVENUE 


295 


Cathedral,  conceived  in  1850,  by  Archbishop 
Hughes,  of  the  diocese  of  New  York,  and  erected 
during  the  nineteen  succeeding  years,  after  the 
designs  of  James  Renwick,  the  architect  of  Grace 
Church  and  St.  Bartholomew’s.  Renwick  con¬ 
sidered  it  his  chief  work;  and  the  cathedral  holds 
high  rank  as  an  example  of  the  decorated,  or 
geometric,  style  of  Gothic  architecture  that  pre¬ 
vailed  in  Europe  in  the  thirteenth  century,  and 
of  which  the  cathedrals  at  Rheims,  Cologne,  and 
Amiens  are  typical.  It  is  built  of  marble  with  a 
base  course  of  granite.  Said  to  be  the  eleventh 
in  size  of  the  cathedrals  of  the  world  it  has  a 
capacity  of  18,000  persons.  The  modern  French 
and  Roman  windows,  which,  to  the  eye  of  the  later 
criticism,  impair  the  beauty  of  the  simple  interior, 
were  considered  something  most  desirable  in  their 
day,  and  their  completion  was  hastened  in  order 
that  they  might  be  shown  at  the  Centennial 
Exhibition,  of  1876,  where  they  were  a  feature 
much  admired.  One  of  them — the  window  erected 
to  St.  Patrick — has  at  least  an  antiquarian  in¬ 
terest.  It  was  given  by  the  architect,  and 
includes,  in  the  lower  section,  a  picture  of  Ren¬ 
wick  presenting  the  plans  of  the  cathedral  to 
Cardinal  McCloskey. 

The  rose  window  is  said  to  be  a  fac-simile  of 


296  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


the  rose  window  at  Rheims,  recently  destroyed 
by  German  bombs;  a  provenance  that  may  be  the 
more  securely  claimed  since  the  original  has  been 
immolated.  As  a  matter  of  fact  it,  too,  bears  the 
stigma  of  the  Centennial  period,  of  which  it  is  a 
characteristic  example.  The  only  windows  of 
{esthetic  interest  in  the  church  are  the  recent  lights 
in  the  ambulatory,  made  by  different  firms  in 
competition  for  the  windows  of  the  Lady  Chapel, 
which  is  to  be  treated  in  the  same  rich  maimer. 

St.  Thomas’  Church,  opposite,  is  one  of  the 
chief  architectural  ornaments  of  New  York,  re¬ 
cently  rebuilt  upon  the  site  of  the  original,  an 
imposing  brown-stone  structure  of  the  early 
seventies,  the  design  of  Richard  Upjohn,  and 
famous  for  its  decorations  by  La  Farge  and  Saint 
Gaudens.  The  church,  with  its  artistic  contents, 
was  destroyed  by  fire  about  ten  years  ago;  and 
the  present  edifice  represents  the  design  of  Ralph 
Adams  Cram,  carried  out  by  his  former  partner, 
Bertram  Goodhue.  Built  of  white  limestone, 
with  certain  effective  splashes  of  dark  that  varie¬ 
gate  and  enliven  it,  the  fa9ade  is  very  beautiful, 
though  unfortunately  squeezed  by  the  adjoining 
business  building,  recently  crowded  in,  replacing 
one  of  the  Vanderbilt  houses — for  this  part  of 
the  Avenue  was  the  Vanderbilt  stronghold. 


THE  AVENUE 


297 


The  restricted  lot  is  ’even  more  meretricious 
in  its  effect  upon  the  interior,  in  which  one  feels 
the  lack  of  expansion,  and  the  inexpressiveness  of 
the  blind  north  wall.  The  exterior  seems  to 
promise  something  richer  and  warmer  than  this 
rather  drab  realization,  with  its  insistent  black- 
outlined  stone  facing,  its  Quaker-grey  woodwork, 
and  the  geometric  windows  of  the  clerestory.  The 
rose  window  and  the  tall  lights  of  the  sanctuary 
are,  indeed,  most  lovely  in  design  and  depth  of 
colour,  and  the  reredos,  when  placed,  will  no  doubt 
enhance  the  effect.  The  reredos  will  reproduce 
so  far  as  is  possible  the  Saint  Gaudens  reredos 
of  the  old  church.  Though  it  was  totally  de¬ 
stroyed  by  the  fire,  excellent  photographs  of  it 
had  been  taken,  and  from  these  Lee  Lawrie,  an 
American  sculptor,  is  reconstructing  a  similar 
panel. 

The  Gothic  note  is  emphasized  in  this  part  of 
the  Avenue  by  the  adjacent  Vanderbilt  houses, 
of  which  the  earlier,  at  the  corner  of  Fifty-second 
Street,  was  inspired  by  a  chateau  in  the  Vosges, 
and  represents,  at  his  best,  one  of  the  builders  of 
New  York — Richard  Morris  Hunt — who,  until 
superseded  by  his  young  colleague,  Stanford 
White,  was  the  architect  most  sought  after  by 
the  cognoscenti  of  the  city.  Hunt  made  the 


298  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


central  part  of  the  new  Metropolitan  Museum, 
and  the  Lenox  Library;  he  built  the  twin  Vander¬ 
bilt  houses  further  down  the  Avenue.  He  was 
one  of  a  talented  family — his  brother  was  the 
celebrated  painter,  William  Morris  Hunt.  A 
man  of  excellent  tradition,  his  work  was  highly 
esteemed  in  New  York;  and  when  he  died,  in 
1895,  the  art  societies  of  the  city  erected  the 
monument  to  his  memory,  by  Daniel  Chester 
French,  which  stands  at  Seventieth  Street  and 
Fifth  Avenue,  opposite  Mr.  Frick’s  house. 

This  Gothic  chateau,  transported  to  the  heart 
of  fashionable  New  York,  has  been  shorn  of  the 
dignity  of  even  a  tiny  setting  by  the  widening 
of  the  Avenue,  and  seems  to  stand  rather 
abruptly  on  the  building  line.  Hunt  carried  out 
the  Gothic  spirit  in  the  handsome  doorway,  really 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  things  on  the  Avenue. 
The  little  stone  effigy  of  the  architect,  seated  on 
the  peak  of  the  mansard,  is  a  humorous  and 
characteristic  touch.  The  adjoining  house,  be¬ 
longing  to  William  K.  Vanderbilt,  Jr.,  has  been 
made  to  correspond  with  Hunt’s  design,  and  the 
business  buildings  alongside  make  some  attempt 
to  carry  out  the  spirit  of  the  architecture  and 
to  connect  with  St.  Thomas’  on  the  next  corner. 
Hunt,  in  his  designs  for  the  twin  houses  in  brown 


THE  HUNT  MEMORIAL,  CENTRAL  PARK  EAST 
BY  DANIEL  CHESTER  FRENCH  (PAGE  298) 


THE  AVENUE 


299 


freestone,  built,  in  1882,  by  William  H.  Vander¬ 
bilt,  for  himself  and  his  daughter,  stipulated  that 
the  material  should  be  white  marble,  then  greatly 
in  vogue;  but  Vanderbilt  owned  a  quarry  of 
brownstone  and  the  native  product  was  employed. 

Arnold  Bennett,  with  the  easy  decision  of  the 
casual  visitor,  picked  the  University  Club  as  the 
building  in  New  York  that  pleased  him  most; 
Henry  James  seemed  to  indicate  a  preference  for 
the  Metropolitan  Club;  while  still  a  third  critic, 
a  celebrated  French  architect,  told  us  that  for 
purity  of  architecture  New  York  held  nothing 
comparable  to  the  Harmony  Club  in  Sixtieth 
Street. 

Of  the  many  fine  examples  of  the  work  of 
Charles  Follen  McKim,  the  University  Club,  the 
Morgan  Library,  and  the  Library  of  Columbia 
University,  stand  out  notably  amongst  the  fea¬ 
tures  of  the  city,  and  none  perhaps  exceeds  in 
dignity  and  distinction  the  building  officially 
erected  by  Messrs.  McKim,  Mead,  and  White,  at 
the  northwest  comer  of  Fifth  Avenue  and  Fifty- 
fourth  Street. 

The  junior  member  of  the  firm  had  already 
given  to  the  city  a  new  proof  of  his  equipment 
in  the  design  and  interior  construction  and  em¬ 
bellishment  of  the  Metropolitan  Club,  whose 


300  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


calm  surface  protests  against  the  heterologous 
inventions  of  the  upper  Avenue.  But,  fine  as  it 
unquestionably  is,  it  seems  to  compare  not  at  all 
in  personality,  nor  in  its  outward  expression  of 
its  ultimate  purpose,  to  the  mature  product  of 
White’s  accomplished  partner.  McKim’s  prob¬ 
lem,  too,  presented  unwonted  difficulties.  He  had 
to  construct  a  house  consisting  really  of  nine 
stories,  necessitated  by  the  requirements  of  the 
club,  so  as  to  conceal  this  fact  and  to  present  a 
graceful  facade  with  proportions  satisfactory  to 
the  fastidious  eye.  This  has  been  done  with  ex¬ 
traordinary  success,  and  no  one  sensitive  to  archi¬ 
tectural  charm  can  pass  the  University  Club 
without  taking  off  his  hat  to  this  achievement  or 
pausing  to  congratulate  the  Avenue  upon  its  most 
impressive  feature. 

The  Palazzo  Farnese  seems  to  have  furnished  a 
theme  for  the  building,  which  follows  in  the  main 
the  fifteenth  century  Florentine  in  architecture. 
Besides  the  handsome  Renaissance  doorway,  the 
balconies,  the  coat  of  arms  above  the  second  main 
story  of  the  Fifty-fourth  Street  front,  the  two 
fa9ades  are  enriched  in  a  fashion  suggested  by 
the  source  of  inspiration.  Between  the  small 
windows  of  the  two  mezzanine  floors  are  sculp¬ 
tured  in  Knoxville  marble  the  shields  of  the 


THE  AVENUE 


301 


various  colleges  represented  in  the  club,  carved 
in  high  relief.  Beneath  each  is  the  Latin  in¬ 
scription  conveying  the  appropriate  mottoes. 
This  form  of  shields,  or  coats  of  arms,  with 
inscriptions  beneath,  were  common  in  the  decora¬ 
tive  details  of  the  Italian  Renaissance,  and  are 
frequent  in  Italy,  notably  in  the  Court  of  the 
Bargello,  in  Florence. 

The  club’s  seal  was  designed  by  Kenyon  Cox, 
and  executed  by  George  Brewster;  and  may  be 
seen,  carved  in  stone,  on  the  main  front  high  up 
above  the  entrance.  It  represents  two  Greek 
youths,  their  hands  clasped  in  friendship.  One 
holds  a  tablet,  bearing  the  word  “  Patria,”  the 
other  a  torch  symbolizing  learning  as  well  as 
eternity.  The  derivation  is  from  the  old  Greek 
race  in  which  the  runner  carried  a  burning  torch 
until  he  fell  exhausted,  when  he  passed  it  to 
another,  indicating  the  light  of  learning  that 
scholars  keep  alive  and  transmit  from  generation 
to  generation. 

The  same  idea  has  been  adapted  by  Charles 
E.  Keck  in  his  decorative  panel  above  the  fire¬ 
place  of  the  central  hall  within.  The  figure  of 
Athene  introduced  in  the  panel  is  altogether 
different  from  the  statuette  on  the  shield,  but 
expresses  the  same  thought. 


302  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


The  interior  of  the  University  Club  is  one  of 
the  marvels  of  New  York,  unpardonably  inac¬ 
cessible.  For  one  month,  January,  1900,  its 
treasures  were  thrown  open  to  a  selected  public, 
on  certain  days  and  during  certain  hours.  Its 
hospitality  was  liberally  appreciated  and  thou¬ 
sands  visited  the  handsomely  decorated  rooms, 
which  were  further  enriched  and  embellished  by 
the  hanging  of  rare  and  beautiful  tapestries  and 
draperies  lent  from  the  remarkable  collections  of 
Stanford  White.  Since  that  time  the  manage¬ 
ment  has  followed  the  stringency  of  the  London 
clubs  in  reserving  its  features  strictly  for  the 
enjoyment  of  members. 

The  club  is  chiefly  famous  for  the  decorations 
of  the  library  by  H.  Siddons  Mowbray.  These 
decorations  consist  of  seven  large  lunettes  and 
thirty-four  minor  panels,  besides  sculpture  and 
ornament,  all  executed  by  this  artist.  The  gen¬ 
eral  scheme  of  design  and  color,  with  its  at¬ 
tendant  richness,  is  founded  on  the  architectural 
decorations  of  Pinturicchio  in  the  library  at  Siena 
and  in  the  Borgia  Apartments  at  the  Vatican.  In 
thus  choosing  its  type  from  among  the  greatest 
mural  paintings  of  the  world  McKim  was  true 
to  the  faith  of  his  firm.  It  was  first  intended 
to  make  a  copy  of  the  decoration  of  the  Borgia 


THE  AVENUE 


303 


Apartments,  but  this  idea,  except  for  its  richness 
and  general  plan,  was  gradually  dropped  as  the 
work  proceeded  in  Mr.  Mowbray’s  studio  in 
Rome,  conditions  rendering  a  copy  impossible. 

The  magnificent  rooms  of  the  Borgia  pope  are 
moderate  in  size,  separated  by  simple  doorways, 
and  not  to  be  seen  en  suite;  their  walls  are  of 
light  plaster,  toned  in  patterns  to  imitate  marble 
and  varied  stones,  while  those  of  the  New  York 
club  are  lined  with  woodwork,  shelves,  and  books. 
There  is,  however,  a  general  similarity  of  con¬ 
struction  in  the  arches  and  lunettes  of  the  ceiling 
of  the  library  and  those  decorated  by  Pinturicchio. 

It  happened  opportunely  that  the  Borgia 
Apartments,  long  closed  to  the  public,  had  been 
cleaned  and  restored  and,  in  1897,  opened  by 
Pope  Leo  XIII,  so  that  during  Mr.  Mowbray’s 
sojourn  in  Rome  they  were  accessible  for  study. 
Not  only  the  paintings,  but  the  small  figures  in 
relief  in  the  panels,  and  the  final  architectural 
mouldings  were  designed  by  the  artist  and,  with 
the  exception  of  the  last,  entirely  executed  by  him. 
These  mouldings  were  all  done  by  hand,  to  avoid 
mechanical  repetition,  and  were  carved  by  native 
workmen  under  the  painter’s  supervision,  in  his 
workshop  in  the  Via  Margutta. 

Though  frankly  derived  from  Pinturicchio 


304  A  LOITERER  IX  NEW  YORK 


much  of  the  decoration  is  Mr.  Mowbray ’s  own. 
In  four  of  the  alcoves  he  has  utilized  as  many 
of  the  master’s  designs,  following  with  close  fi¬ 
delity  the  details  of  certain  panels  symbolizing 
Geometry,  Arithmetic,  Music,  and  Rhetoric  in 
the  Vatican.  In  addition  to  these  lunettes  there 
are  panels  in  the  ceiling  illustrating  mythological 
types  and  episodes  wherein  Pinturicchio  again 
may  be  identified.  But  the  large  lunettes  at  the 
ends  of  the  gallery,  Romance,  at  the  east,  and 
History,  at  the  wrest,  are  Mr.  Mowbray’s  own, 
as  are  also  the  entire  central  bay,  the  panels  in 
gold  relief,  the  ornament  of  the  arches,  and 
most  of  the  secondary  paintings. 

The  religious  element,  an  important  feature  of 
the  Borgia  decorations,  is  introduced  in  two  demi- 
lunettes  over  the  central  white  marble  portal — 
the  Old  and  the  New  Testament.  The  secondary 
panels  in  the  arches  and  the  ceiling,  carrying  out 
two  of  Pinturicchio’s  themes,  are  devoted  to 
Greek  mythology  and  the  myth  of  Isis  and 
Osiris;  the  four  smaller  rectangular  panels  over 
the  central  bay,  to  Literature,  Art,  Science,  and 
Philosophy;  the  four  medallion  portraits  over 
each  of  the  compartments  on  each  side  of  the 
central  one  are,  on  the  east,  of  Dante,  Tasso, 
Virgil,  and  Petrarch,  and  on  the  west,  of  Homer, 


UNIVERSITY  CLUB  LIBRARY.  CHARLES  FOLLEN  MCKIM,  ARCHITECT 
EAST  END  SHOWING  DECORATIONS  BY  H.  SIDDONS  MOWBRAY  (PAGE  304) 


THE  AVENUE 


305 


Socrates,  Goethe,  and  Shakespeare.  Two  very 
narrow  panels,  heavy  in  relief  and  gold,  which 
descend  on  the  wall  on  each  side  of  the  central 
white  portal,  represent,  in  medieval  fashion,  the 
Illumination,  and  the  Inscription,  and  on  the 
opposite  wall  are  the  Papyrus  and  the  Book. 
Throughout  all  of  these  decorations,  so  varied  in 
theme  and  in  composition,  the  text  is  clear,  and 
the  application  of  the  decoration  to  the  purpose 
of  the  place  decorated  has  not  once  been  for¬ 
gotten. 


XV 


THE  PLAZA 

Driving  one  day  down  the  Champs  Elysees, 
my  companion,  a  lady  whose  girlhood  had  been 
passed  in  the  sumptuous  days  of  the  Third 
Empire,  turned  and  said  to  me  with  conviction: — 
“  L’automobile  a  beaucoup  gate  Paris!”  I  think 
of  it  every  time  I  pass  through  this  section  of 
Fifth  Avenue,  especially  from  a  perch  on  the  top 
of  one  of  the  popular  busses.  If  the  automobile 
has  taken  the  charm  from  Paris,  where  there  is 
left  such  infinite  variety  to  offset  that  deteriora¬ 
tion,  how  much  more  lamentably  has  Xew  York 
suffered  in  the  aspect  of  its  one  handsome  show 
street!  As  one  looks  down  upon  it  in  the  bril¬ 
liant  morning  hours,  when  the  butterflies  are  out 
in  quest  of  plumage,  what  used  to  present  a  gay 
scene  of  prancing  steeds,  smart  vehicles,  elegant 
costumes,  skilled  drivers,  and  correct  footmen, 
has  now  given  place  to  a  long,  unbroken  line 
of  shiny  black  boxes,  working  their  uneventful, 

306 


THE  PLAZA 


307 


colourless  way,  like  some  vast  convocation  of 
hearses  bound  for  the  cemetery. 

During  the  summer  there  has  been  of  late  a 
revival  of  the  fiacre ,  in  the  form  once  accepted 
for  park  driving  in  the  days  when  driving  was 
a  means  of  displaying  beautiful  clothes,  and 
Central  Park  was  something  more  than  a  short 
cut  between  formidable  distances.  This  fiacre , 
or  victoria,  as  it  may  be  called,  lends  to  the 
perverse  state  of  leisure  with  which,  sometimes, 
it  is  amusing  to  oppose  the  universal  command 
to  “  step  lively,”  which  so  regulates  our  habitual 
gait.  It  is  quite  worth  the  sensation  to  step 
into  one  of  these  antiquated  vehicles,  driven  with 
some  feeling  for  the  moribund  art,  and  to  make 
the  tour  of  the  park,  sympathetically,  from  the 
long  approach  up  the  Avenue,  at  the  old-time 
pace. 

That  Fifth  Avenue,  at  the  Plaza,  has  reached 
its  ultimate  climax  is  a  conviction  that  grows  with 
study.  Now  that  it  has  been  practically  aban¬ 
doned  to  trade,  we  are  to  learn  that  there  is 
nothing  really  chic  beyond  the  gateway  to  the 
park.  In  its  adventurous  course  from  Wash¬ 
ington  Square,  during  more  than  three-quarters 
of  a  century,  its  centre  of  interest  had  but  to 
move  from  stage  to  stage.  Now  nothing  can  be 


308  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


done  but  to  double  on  its  tracks;  unless  it  should 
be  some  day  deemed  possible  to  “  treat  ”  the  park 
in  some  comprehensive  architectural  scheme  that 
would  make  it  subservient  to  a  more  monumental 
city  of  speculative  conception. 

Whether  or  not  this  is  what  we  are  grandly 
to  come,  in  the  course  of  human  events,  Karl 
Ritter’s  last  work,  the  “  Fountain  of  Abundance,” 
as  the  culminating  feature  of  the  new  “  lay  out  ” 
of  the  Plaza,  marks  the  now  supreme  spot  in  the 
centre  of  fashionable  and  beautiful  New  York. 
A  posthumous  work,  for  which,  however,  the 
sculptor  left  ample  data,  the  figure,  finished  by 
a  compatriot,  Isidore  Konti,  was  quietly  placed 
in  May,  1016,  about  a  year  after  the  sculptor’s 
untimely  death.  Ritter  and  Konti  were  fellow 
students  in  the  Imperial  Academy  of  Art  in 
Vienna;  they  came  to  this  country  at  about  the 
same  time,*  and  both  did  important  work  in 
connection  with  the  sculpture  at  the  Columbian 
Exposition,  which  brought  Konti  into  promi¬ 
nence,  while  Ritter,  who  had  already  made  the 
doors  for  Trinity  Church,  and  been  discovered  by 
the  architects,  as  we  have  seen,  it  gave  an  oppor¬ 
tunity  for  bigger  work  in  the  decorative  field  so 
suited  to  his  gifts  and  education. 

*  Bitter  in  1899,  Konti  in  1899. 


THE  PLAZA 


309 


These  two  native  Austrians,  bred  in  the  one 
school,  under  the  one  master,  came  together  for 
the  first  time  in  Chicago  during  their  work  for 
the  World’s  Fair,  of  1893,  and  formed  a  friend¬ 
ship  which  endured  for  twenty-two  years,  and 
was  only  terminated  by  the  fatal  calamity,  by 
which  Bitter,  while  still  in  the  prime  of  life,  was 
suddenly  killed.  Unfinished  in  his  studio,  Bitter 
left  the  sketch  model  for  the  figure  of  Abundance, 
to  top  the  Plaza  fountain,  designed  by  Messrs. 
Carrere  and  Hastings.  This,  together  with  the 
architects’  plans,  was  handed  over  to  Mr.  Konti, 
who,  as  he  himself  expresses  it,  rendered  his  in¬ 
terpretation  of  Bitter’s  creation,  as  a  virtuoso 
interprets  the  composition  of  another  musician. 
Abundance,  as  she  stands,  is  entirely  the  execution 
of  Mr.  Konti,  read  from  the  small  model  left  by 
her  creator.  The  staff  model,  which  Bitter  had 
made  merely  to  try  the  scale  of  the  fountain  in 
place,  was  not  considered  possible  for  perma¬ 
nency,  though  Mr.  Konti  advocated  placing  it,  in 
its  incomplete  state,  in  order  that  his  friend’s  last 
work  should  stand,  unfinished  but  still  in  its 
entirety  the  product  of  his  own  brain  and  hand. 

Whether  this  fine  sentiment  was  really  im¬ 
practicable  or  not,  one  is  not  in  a  position  to 
state,  never  having  seen  the  staff  model;  but  one 


310  A  LOITERER  IX  NEW  YORK 


thing  is  certain — Ritter’s  creation  lost  nothing  in 
Konti’s  interpretation;  rather,  one  may  suppose, 
by  comparing  it  with  other  works  of  the  deceased 
sculptor,  it  gained  in  a  certain  grace  and  charm, 
both  in  the  action  of  the  figure  and  in  the  beauty' 
of  the  handling. 

A  most  lovely  figure  it  is,  so  rich,  so  Renais¬ 
sance  in  feeling,  so  expressive,  and  so  vital.  It 
seems  to  epitomize  the  best  in  both  sculptors,  and 
to  surpass  the  single  creation  of  either.  Sweetly 
ingratiating,  this  exotic  presence,  standing  high 
above  the  generous,  overflowing  basin,  strangely 
aloof  from  the  conglomerate  surroundings,  which 
the  architectural  setting  has  done  much,  yet  not 
enough,  to  mitigate,  she  bends  graciously,  ap¬ 
pealingly,  her  arms  swung  to  the  left  holding  a 
panier  filled  with  fruits,  her  drapery  connecting, 
strengthening  the  composition.  If  Bartlett's 
Romance  is  the  companion  of  the  lyrics  of  the 
Optra  Comique,  Abundance  is  of  the  world  of 
Jean  Goujon’s  Diana,  yet,  perhaps,  more  one 
of  us  in  her  human  “  sympatheticism.” 

She  is  best  seen  from  the  rear,  as  one  comes  up 
the  Avenue,  her  strong,  young  body  silhouetted 
against  the  sky;  but  she  must  be  studied  also 
from  a  position  due  north,  where  the  details  of 
the  fountain  itself  become  visible,  with  the  fine 


EQUESTRIAN  STATUE  OF  WILLIAM  TECUMSEH  SHERMAN 
BY  AUGUSTUS  SAINT-GAUDENS.  PLAZA  (PAGE  314) 


PLAN  OF  THE  PLAZA 

CARRERE  AND  HASTINGS,  ARCHITECTS 

(page  313) 


THE  PLAZA 


311 


contrasts  of  the  dark  bronze  above  the  stone 
basin,  over  whose  rounded  edge  sheets  of  water 
pass  and  are  blown  forcefully  by  the  wind;  and 
there  she  has  something  of  a  worthy  background 
in  the  chateau  of  Cornelius  Vanderbilt*  relating 
to  her  ancestry. 

This  same  “  chateau  ”  contains  a  rather  precious 
chimney-piece  supported  by  two  caryatides,  an 
early  work  of  Augustus  Saint  Gaudens,  of  the 
epoch  of  the  angel  of  the  Morgan  Monument,  in 
Hartford,  and  the  angel  of  St.  Thomas’  Church — 
both  destroyed  by  fire — and  of  the  Amor  Caritas, 
preserved  in  the  Luxembourg  Museum.  This 
winged  figure,  in  Greek  draperies,  seems  to  have 
been  a  product  of  Saint  Gaudens’  student  days 
in  Paris,  though  as  Taft  points  out  she  is  “  not 
related  to  those  ample  demoiselles  who  thrive  and 
bloom  so  insistently  upon  the  average  French 
monument  ” — still  the  sculptor,  animated  by  the 
Gallic  feeling  for  visualizing  the  abstract  spirit  of 
an  enterprise,  introduces  her  floating  above  the 
march  of  the  black  regiment  in  the  Shaw  Me¬ 
morial,  and  in  another  phase  she  is  presented  to 
the  vision  beyond  the  climax  of  the  Avenue,  in 
that  splendid  glittering  group  of  General  Sher¬ 
man,  led  by  Victory,  at  the  entrance  to  the  park. 

*  By  George  B.  Post,  architect. 


312  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


In  the  Sherman  equestrian  group  and  the 
Lincoln  at  Chicago,  finished  towards  the  close  of 
his  life.  Saint  Gaudens  reached  the  high-water 
mark  of  his  genius.  During  Sherman’s  life  the 
sculptor  had  modelled  the  bust,  owned  by  the 
Pennsylvania  Academy  of  the  Fine  Arts,  a 
literal  record  of  the  wrought  and  wrinkled  face 
of  the  restless  old  general,  very  much  as  we  see 
it  again  in  the  bronze  group.  The  statue  was 
made  a  number  of  years  after  the  general’s  death, 
itself  occupying  a  matter  of  six  years,  from  the 
time  when  Saint  Gaudens  began  the  work,  in 
Paris,  to  its  final  unveiling,  on  Decoration  Day, 
1903.  With  the  Shaw  Memorial  and  the  Amor 
Caritas,  the  Sherman  won  for  its  author  the 
highest  award  of  the  Paris  Exposition  of  1900. 
Though  he  had  exhibited  it,  Saint  Gaudens  did 
not  consider  it  finished  and  revised  it  critically 
and  changed  it  before  it  was  shown  again,  for 
the  first  time  in  this  country,  at  the  Pan- 
American  Exposition,  of  Buffalo.  Here  it  was 
more  effective,  than  in  the  Grand  Palais,  where 
it  stood  one  among  many  large  sculptural  works; 
and  placed  impressively,  facing  the  Fine  Arts 
Building,  it  contributed  a  vigorous  note  to  the 
magnificent  architectural  scheme  of  the  arrange¬ 
ment. 


THE  PLAZA 


313 


Placed  at  first  casually  at  the  edge  of  the  park, 
it  stood  for  more  than  the  first  decade  of  its  life 
on  the  outskirts  of  the  rather  paradoxical,  con¬ 
glomerate  apology  for  a  square  that  marked 
our  present  “ Grand  Place  ” — still  heterogeneous 
enough,  hut  coming  to  something  formal  and 
elegant  under  the  design  of  Messrs.  Carrere  and 
Hastings.* 

As  for  its  aspect  ten  years  ago,  we  have  Henry 
James’  delicious  word  for  it  in  his  whole  inimi¬ 
table  description  of  the  park,  the  statue,  and  the 
square.t  And  since,  while  in  the  very  act  of  see¬ 
ing  and  even  exaggerating  the  absurdity  of  the 
“mere  narrow  oblong”  (the  park)  and  the 
casual  and  inconsistent  end  to  which  things  came 
at  this  curious  terminus,  where  neighbourhoods 
still  clash,  where  clanging  trolley  cars  and  rattling 
trucks,  bound  for  the  Queensborough  Bridge, 


*  This  design  embraces  the  rearrangement  of  the  Plaza  and 
constitutes  the  Joseph  Pulitzer  Memorial.  At  the  present  writing 
one-half  of  the  architects’  plan  has  been  carried  out.  When  the 
subway  tunnelling  under  the  Avenue  at  this  point  is  finished  the 
design  already  executed  will  be  duplicated  on  the  other  side  of 
Fifty-ninth  Street,  and  the  Sherman  statue  moved  to  a  spot  cor¬ 
responding  to  that  occupied  by  the  “  Fountain  of  Abundance,”  so 
that  the  two  works  will  balance  each  other  in  the  completed  ar¬ 
rangement.  The  driveway  will  sweep  around  behind  the  Sherman 
group,  entering  the  park  on  a  line  with  Sixtieth  Street  and  the 
Hotel  Plaza. 

f  “  The  American  Scene.”  Henry  James.  P.  166. 


314  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


weave  a  rough  woof  through  fashion’s  purring 
motors,  where  saloons  and  newspaper  stands  and 
tobacco  shops  and  chewing  gum  venders  in  Fifty- 
ninth  Street,  pursue  unseemly  commerce  and  back 
their  mongrel  shanties  into  the  domain  of  elegance 
to  the  north  and  south  of  this  persistent  artery 
of  civic  vulgarity,  he  picks  with  discrimination  the 
essence  of  the  good  in  the  statue,  one  must  believe 
that  even  then  it  dominated  the  petty  meanness 
of  inadequate  surroundings  and  held  its  own. 
Just  as  one  has  been  trying  to  prove  all  along, 
without  pushing  the  point,  it  demonstrates  the 
enduring  nobility  of  art,  either  in  buildings  or 
sculpture  or  whatever  that  cannot  be  downed,  no 
matter  how  absorbing,  how  degraded  even,  the 
surroundings. 

Referring  to  this  “  most  jovial  of  all  the  sacri¬ 
fices  of  preconsidered  composition  ”  our  distin¬ 
guished  visitor  wrote: — 

“  The  best  thing  in  the  picture,  obviously,  is 
Saint  Gaudens’  great  group,  splendid  in  its 
golden  elegance  and  doing  more  for  the  scene 
(by  thus  giving  the  beholder  a  point  of  such  dig¬ 
nity  for  his  orientation)  than  all  its  other  elements 
together.  Strange  and  seductive  for  any  lover  of 
the  reasons  of  things  this  inordinate  value,  on  the 
spot,  of  dauntless  refinement  of  the  Sherman 


THE  PLAZA 


315 


image;  the  comparative  vulgarity  of  the  environ¬ 
ment  drinking  it  up,  on  one  side,  like  an  insatiable 
sponge,  and  yet  failing  at  the  same  time  sensibly 
to  impair  its  virtue.  The  refinement  prevails  and, 
as  it  were,  succeeds;  holds  its  own  in  the  medley 
of  accidents,  where  nothing  else  is  refined  unless 
it  he  the  amplitude  of  the  ‘  quiet  ’  note  in  the 
front  of  the  Metropolitan  Club;  amuses  itself,  in 
short,  with  being  as  extravagantly  c  intellectual  ’  as 
it  likes.  Why,  therefore,  given  the  surrounding 
medium,  does  it  so  triumphantly  impose  itself,  and 
impose  itself  riot  insidiously  and  gradually,  but 
immediately  and  with  force?  Why  does  it  not 
pay  the  penalty  of  expressing  an  idea  and  being 
founded  on  one? — such  scant  impunity  seeming 
usually  to  be  enjoyed  among  us,  at  this  hour,  by 
any  artistic  intention  of  the  finer  strain?  But  I 
put  these  questions  only  to  give  them  up — for 
what  I  feel  beyond  anything  else  is  that  Mr. 
Saint  Gaudens  somehow  takes  care  of  himself.” 

Take  care  of  himself  he  capably  does  in  the 
highest  technical  sense,  in  the  immense  measured 
value  of  handsomeness  which  the  group  presents 
on  all  sides;  the  sense  of  invincible  oncoming  in 
the  stride  of  the  maiden,  the  step  of  the  lean 
charger,  the  inflation  of  the  military  draperies  of 
the  commander,  the  upright  palm  branch,  and 


316  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


the  uplifted  hand  of  the  herald  with  her  rich 
embellishment  of  golden  wings,  all  lending  to 
an  erectness  of  posture  in  the  component  parts  of 
the  statue  whereby  we  feel  the  contributing  value 
of  long  lines  to  the  freedom  of  strong  victorious 
advance. 

Yet  great  as  is  the  decorative  weight  of  this 
monument,  more  than  equestrian  by  reason  of 
the  winged  figure  that  comes  before  the  com¬ 
mander  and  whose  grace  and  sweeping  force 
give  special  character  and  intention  to  the  ap¬ 
proach  of  the  horseman,  there  is  always  a 
haunting  reservation  in  one’s  acceptance  of  the 
ensemble.  Is  there  not  a  weakness  in  the  neces¬ 
sity  for  an  embodied  Victory?  Does  not  the  too 
actual  presence  of  this  rather  typical  American 
girl,  taking,  as  it  were,  the  glory  of  the  charge, 
that  should  all  be  present  in  the  forward  move¬ 
ment  of  the  conquering  hero  himself,  dock  the 
doughty  old  general  of  his  proudest  plume? 

Taft  saw  her  as  a  “  spirit  presence,”  a  “  per¬ 
sonification  of  a  force  ”  rather  than  as  an  in¬ 
dividual,  the  embodiment  of  a  poetic  inspiration 
permeating  the  whole  brilliant  scheme.*  Ob¬ 
viously  that  was  what  Saint  Gaudens  wished  to 
convey;  and  Taft,  with  the  generosity  of  a 

•  “  History  of  American  Sculpture.”  Lorado  Taft 


THE  PLAZA 


317 


brother  sculptor,  reads  into  the  expression  the 
full  revelation  that  the  author  sought.  But  there 
is  a  lack  of  correlation  between  the  poetic  idea 
and  the  general’s  face,  which  is  the  literal,  un- 
sculpturesque  countenance  of  the  Pennsylvania 
Academy’s  bust.  The  face  does  not  reach  to  the 
heights  of  the  ideality  of  the  Victory,  which  calls 
for  something  more  than  literal  portraiture. 
There  is  nothing  exalted  in  the  general’s  ex¬ 
pression:  he  looks,  indeed,  baffled;  a  little  cheated 
of  his  right  to  a  personal  triumph  as  the  victor; 
a  little  foolish  and  uncomfortably  conscious  of 
this  goddess  intrusion.  From  every  point  of  view 
she  fits  the  composition  marvellously,  she  lends 
variety  and  vivacity  to  the  statue ;  but  in  so 
doing  she  obscures  the  central  idea,  her  presence 
is  confusing  and  ambiguous,  she  tells  too  much, 
and  she  detracts  from  Sherman’s  triumphal  entry 
— she  takes  the  wind  out  of  his  sails. 


XVI 


CENTRAL  PARK  EAST 

Y  ORKVILLE 

The  “  mere  narrow  oblong  ”  offers  itself,  in 
the  capacity  most  noted  in  these  days  of  preferred 
gregariousness,  chiefly  as  an  obstacle  to  traffic, 
a  handicap  that  must  be  reckoned  with  in  one’s 
hectic  cross-town  dash  in  the  upper  regions  with 
which  we  are  now  to  deal.  The  intimacy  with 
which  the  Common  and  the  Public  Gardens  are 
interwoven  with  the  daily  lives  of  all  good 
Bostonians;  the  inviting  charm  whereby  the 
Luxembourg  Garden  becomes  the  contributory 
factor  to  the  quarter  touching  upon  it;  the 
graceful  interlude  in  the  travelings  of  countless 
footsteps  yielded  by  the  Tuileries  form  no  part  of 
the  exhalation  of  Central  Park.  Even  for  solitary 
ramblings,  such  as  are  deliciously  possible  through 
the  green  pastures  of  Kensington  Gardens,  down 
the  gentle  decline  to  the  real  smartness  of  Hyde 

318 


CENTRAL  PARK  EAST 


319 


Park  Corner,  the  atmosphere  is  wanting  in  our 
factitious  substitute. 

Mistrustful  of  the  quality  of  its  hospitality, 
questioning  perhaps  its  right  to  wasteful  holding, 
for  the  mere  benefits  of  light  and  air,  a  tract  of 
such  inordinate  value,  as  values  go  in  our  re¬ 
stricted  acreage,  the  park  presents  an  extraordi¬ 
nary  effect  of  self-restraint,  of  lack  of  confidence, 
of  having,  with  all  the  pretty  artifices  and  artful 
dodges  by  which  its  small  area  is  exaggerated, 
outlived  its  time. 

Park  life  with  us  has  perhaps  become  ob¬ 
solete;  our  national  breathlessness  cannot  brook 
this  paradox  of  pastoral  musings  within  sight 
and  sound  and  smell  of  the  busy  lure  of  money¬ 
making.  Within  its  gates  we  pass  into  a  new 
element;  and  this  element  is  antipathetic  to  the 
one-sided  development  imposed  by  city  life.  In¬ 
stead  of  resting  us,  it  presents  a  problem,  and 
the  last  thing  for  which  we  now  have  time  is 
abstract  thought.  And  so  we  prefer  the  dazzling, 
twinkling,  clashing,  clamouring,  death-dealing, 
sinking,  eruptive,  insistent  Broadway,  where 
every  blink  of  the  eye  catches  a  new  impression, 
where  the  brain  becomes  a  passive,  palpitating 
receptacle  for  ideas  which  are  shot  into  it  through 
all  the  senses ;  and  where,  between  “  stepping 


320  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


lively  ”  and  “  watching  your  step,”  a  feat  of 
contradictoriness  only  equalled  in  its  exaction  by 
the  absorbing  exercise  of  slapping  with  one  hand 
and  rubbing  with  the  other,  independent  thought 
becomes  an  extinct  function. 

Not  only  does  Central  Park  offer  resistance 
to  ready  communication  between  the  city’s  com¬ 
ponent  parts,  it  demonstrates  the  breach,  or 
yawning  gulf,  that  separates  several  incompatible 
neighbourhoods  of  the  island  town.  The  trolley 
cars  that  rule  off  its  southern  boundary  cut  con¬ 
nections  sharply  and  definitely  between  upper 
and  lower  Fifth  Avenue.  Beyond  their  parallel 
business  may  not  pass.  Till  now  the  cold  ex¬ 
ternality  of  Millionaires’  Row,  except  for  a  few 
exclusive  clubs  and  apartment  houses — the  latter 
gaining  rapidly — has  been  secure  against  invasion, 
the  last  residential  stronghold  of  exorbitant 
wealth. 

Even  before  Central  Park  was  laid  out  Fifty- 
ninth  Street  was  the  dividing  line  between  the 
most  desirable  sections  of  New  York  and  the 
most  promiscuous.  Below  was  the  centre  of 
fashion  and  elegance;  above,  along  the  country 
road,  nowr  called  Fifth  Avenue,  and  throughout 
the  unsightly  waste  land  later  taken  for  the 
park,  lay  the  habitat  of  “  squatters,”  the  un- 


CENTRAL  PARK  EAST 


321 


fortunate  offscourings  of  our  new  civilization. 
Their  encampment,  reaching  almost  to  Mount 
Morris  Park,  numbered  over  five  thousand  squalid 
and  dreadful  victims  of  poverty,  who  lived  by 
cinder-sifting,  rag-picking,  and  bone-boiling,  in 
a  state  of  abject  misery.  Rebcs  of  this  curious 
colony  remained  until  as  recently  as  1880,  when 
the  construction  of  the  elevated  roads  and  the 
running  of  surface  cars  made  the  section  west  of 
Central  Park  more  accessible,  and  building  opera¬ 
tions  drove  out  this  tribe  of  unfortunates.  This 
was  doubtless  the  source  of  the  armies  of  pigs, 
of  which  Dickens  wrote  ironically  in  his  im¬ 
pressions  of  New  York;  and  the  Harlem  goats 
and  chickens  and  shanties  were  visible  long  after 
the  opening  of  the  elevated  road;  while  many  old 
prints  of  New  York  dwell  upon  this  picturesque 
aspect  of  the  suburbs. 

Fifth  Avenue  above  Fifty-ninth  Street  re¬ 
mained  undeveloped  for  years.  Prints  of  about 
the  year  1860  show  the  pond  of  the  New  York 
Skating  Club  at  this  street  just  east  of  the 
Avenue,  and  photographs  of  more  recent  date 
preserve  the  amazing  record  of  the  block  of  small 
frame  dwellings  which  antedated  the  first  luxur¬ 
ious  apartment  house  at  Eighty-first  Street,  and 
the  squatters’  settlement,  dislodged  by  Andrew 


322  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Carnegie’s  mansion,  at  Ninetieth  Street.  Until 
late  in  the  nineties  residences  were  scattered, 
with  many  vacant  lots  and  mean  buildings  inter¬ 
vening,  and  there  are  still  strange  lapses  in 
grandeur,  most  notable  of  all  the  peanut  stand 
opposite  the  Metropolitan  Museum,  with  its 
roughly  fenced  “  back  yard,”  abandoned  to  all 
the  indignities  of  such  weed-grown  enclosures 
belonging  to  nobody  in  particular. 

The  farms  of  the  upper  island  extended 
through  this  region,  only  recently  become  val¬ 
uable.  One  of  the  notable  cases,  whose  simple 
descent  is  readily  traced,  is  the  site  of  the  Frick 
house,  which,  replacing  the  Lenox  Library,  oc¬ 
cupies  part  of  the  original  farm  of  Robert  Lenox, 
one  of  the  early  financiers  of  New  York.  This 
farm,  extending  from  Sixtv-eighth  to  Seventy- 
third  Streets  and  from  Fifth  to  Madison  Avenues, 
was  bought  prior  to  1829,  by  Robert  Lenox,  who 
had  faith  in  its  ultimate  appreciation.  The  prop¬ 
erty  for  which  he  paid  $40,000  is  now  estimated 
at  over  $9,000,000.  The  farm,  comprising  about 
thirty  acres,  descended  to  his  son  James,  who 
erected  thereon  the  famous  Lenox  Library, 
opened  in  1877  as  the  first  improvement  of  this 
character  to  the  Avenue;  for  it  antedated  by 
several  years  the  coming  of  the  Metropolitan 


CENTRAL  PARK  EAST 


323 


Museum  that  was  to  give  to  this  district  its 
aesthetic  stamp.  Mr.  Frick’s  house  then  is  the 
direct  successor  of  the  original  building,  designed 
by  Richard  M.  Hunt,  whose  memorial  was  fit¬ 
tingly  placed  opposite  on  the  edge  of  the  park. 

The  ample  lot  provided  an  ideal  location  for 
the  Frick  house  and  gallery,  designed  by 
Messrs.  Carrere  and  Hastings,  with  special  ref¬ 
erence  to  its  artistic  intention.  The  gallery  is 
the  low  wing  at  the  upper  corner.  Built  of 
white  marble,  its  simple  elegance  is  relieved  by 
four  lunettes  in  sculpture,  done  by  Sherry  Fry, 
Philip  Martiny,  Charles  Keck,  and  Attilio 
Piccirilli. 

When  the  cautious  commissioners,  Gouverneur 
Morris,  Simeon  de  Witt,  and  John  Rutherford, 
after  four  years’  prodigious  effort,  produced  the 
“  gridiron  ”  plan,  which  the  city  has  been  con¬ 
demned  to  follow  since  the  fruition  of  these 
master  minds  in  1811,  no  allowance  was  made 
for  a  city  park.  There  is  a  curious  and  fatal 
consistency  in  the  growth  of  New  York  from 
earliest  times.  One  might  have  supposed  that 
the  appointment  of  a  commission  of  this  char¬ 
acter  would  have  resulted  most  beneficently  for 
the  development  of  the  city.  Gouverneur  Morris 
was  one  of  the  most  interesting  characters  of  the 


324  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Revolutionary  era;  living  abroad  for  many  years, 
as  he  did,  he  must  have  noted  the  importance  of 
plan  in  the  beauty  of  foreign  cities,  a  fact  which 
Washington  felt  instinctively  and  impressed  upon 
the  character  of  the  national  capital.  His  op¬ 
portunities  for  cultivation  were  extraordinary, 
and  we  know  that  his  own  house,  Morrisania  in 
the  Bronx,  profited  largely  by  the  knowledge  of 
architecture  and  interior  decoration  which  he  had 
imbibed  during  his  long  residence  in  France.  Yet 
he  was  one  of  those  three  who  rejected  “  fanciful 
forms  ”  that,  while  embellishing  a  plan,  they 
felt  would  interfere  with  the  erection  of  straight- 
sided  and  right-angled  houses  that  for  a  practical 
city  seemed  to  them  most  desirable. 

“It  may  be  a  matter  of  surprise,”  they  said 
in  their  report,  “  that  so  few  vacant  spaces  have 
been  left,  and  those  so  small,  for  the  benefit  of 
fresh  air  and  consequent  preservation  of  health. 
.  .  .  Had  New  York  been  situated  near  little 
streams  like  the  Seine  or  the  Thames,”  was  their 
reasoning,  “  a  great  number  of  ample  spaces  might 
have  been  necessary,  but  Manhattan,  being  em¬ 
braced  by  large  arms  of  the  sea,  neither  from  the 
point  of  view  of  health  nor  pleasure  was  such  a 
plan  necessary.  ...  To  some,”  they  remarked, 
“  it  may  be  a  matter  of  surprise  that  the  whole 


INTERIOR  METROPOLITAN  MUSEUM  (PAGE  331) 


HEAD  OF  BALZAC,  BY  RODIN 
METROPOLITAN  MUSEUM 


CENTRAL  PARK  EAST 


325 


island  has  not  been  laid  out  as  a  city.  To  others 
it  may  be  a  subject  of  merriment  that  the  com¬ 
missioners  have  provided  space  for  a  greater 
population  than  is  collected  at  any  spot  this  side 
of  China.  They  have,  in  this  respect,  been  gov¬ 
erned  by  the  shape  of  the  ground.  It  is  not 
improbable  that  considerable  numbers  may  be 
collected  at  Harlem  before  the  high  hills  to  the 
southward  of  it  shall  be  built  upon  as  a  city;  it  is 
improbable  that  for  centuries  to  come  the  grounds 
north  of  Harlem  Flat  will  be  covered  with  houses. 
...  To  have  gone  further,”  they  added,  “  might 
have  furnished  materials  to  the  pernicious  spirit 
of  speculation.” 

This  was  little  over  a  century  ago!  Even 
when,  in  1856,  the  city  purchased  the  eight  or 
nine  hundred  acres  now  included  in  Central 
Park,  for  a  public  recreation  ground,  the  six 
millions  spent  upon  it  was  considered  a  mad 
extravagance.  Central  Park  was  opened  about 
1859.  Frederick  Law  Olmsted  and  Calvert 
Vaux  were  the  landscape  architects,  and  their 
work  was  considered  wonderful  in  its  day. 

Immediately  upon  the  completion  of  the  park 
a  new  civic  consciousness  awoke  in  the  people, 
and  within  ten  years  the  Metropolitan  Museum 
began  to  be  talked  of.  In  1871  the  State  Legis- 


326  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


lature  passed  a  bill  appropriating  the  sum  of 
half  a  million  of  dollars  to  erect  a  suitable  build¬ 
ing  in  the  park.  The  idea  of  locating  an  art 
museum  in  Central  Park  originated  with  Andrew 
H.  Green,  the  father  of  the  park,  and  the  museum 
now  stands  on  the  spot  selected  by  him  for  the 
purpose.  But  the  actual  housing  of  the  museum 
there,  in  a  building  erected  and  owned  by  the 
city,  and  the  lease  defining  the  relation  between 
the  museum  and  the  city,  does  credit  to  the  far¬ 
sighted  policy  of  the  public  officials,  who  at 
this  time  represented  the  city,  and  who  curi¬ 
ously  enough  were  none  other  than  the  no¬ 
torious  politicians,  William  M.  Tweed  and  Peter 
B.  Sweeny. 

Meanwhile  the  museum  had  been  organized  by 
a  little  band  of  public-spirited  men,  in  1870,  and 
was  sustained  by  their  private  purses.  The  initia¬ 
tive  had  come  from  the  art  committee  of  the 
Union  League  Club  and  the  officers  of  the  meet¬ 
ing  called  on  November  23,  1869,  to  consider  the 
founding  of  the  museum  represented  the  intel¬ 
lectual  and  artistic  leadership  of  New  York. 
Among  the  founders  were  William  Cullen 
Bryant,  president  of  the  Century  Association; 
Daniel  Huntington,  president  of  the  National 
Academy  of  Design;  Richard  M.  Hunt,  presi- 


CENTRAL  PARK  EAST 


327 


dent  of  the  New  York  chapter  of  the  American 
Institute  of  Architects;  Dr.  Barnard,  president 
of  Columbia  College;  and  Dr.  Henry  W.  Bel¬ 
lows,  foremost  among  New  York’s  public-spirited 
clergymen.  The  city  government  was  repre¬ 
sented  by  the  presence  of  Andrew  H.  Green, 
comptroller  of  Central  Park,  and  Henry  G. 
Stebbins,  president  of  the  Central  Park  Com¬ 
mission.  The  Committee  of  Fifty,  into  whose 
hands  the  project  was  committed  by  this  meeting, 
added  to  this  earlier  body  the  foremost  business 
men  of  the  period. 

The  committee  set  out  to  found  a  museum  that 
should  contain  complete  collections  of  objects 
illustrative  of  the  history  of  “  all  the  arts,  whether 
industrial,  educational,  or  recreative,  which  can 
give  value  to  such  an  institution.”  They  set 
themselves  what  seems,  in  the  light  of  later 
developments,  a  modest  goal,  aiming  to  raise  by 
personal  subscription  the  sum  of  $250,000 — about 
two-thirds  of  the  present  annual  administrative 
expenses.  But  their  utmost  efforts  succeeded  in 
raising,  during  the  first  year,  less  than  half  that 
sum.  With  such  small  financial  beginnings  the 
growth  of  the  museum  in  less  than  fifty  years 
seems  almost  incredible;  for  besides  its  exten¬ 
sive  building  and  its  priceless  collections,  its 


328  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


endowment  fund  for  purchase  now  exceeds 

$10,000,000. 

The  history  of  the  museum  divides  itself  into 
three  periods:  the  first,  during  which  it  had  to 
depend  upon  voluntary  service  in  its  management, 
ended  in  1879,  when  General  di  Cesnola  was 
elected  as  its  first  salaried  director;  the  second 
period  ended  with  his  death,  in  1901;  and  the 
third  began  with  the  election  of  J.  Pierpont 
Morgan  as  president,  which  opened  to  the 
museum  vastly  larger  resources  than  it  had 
known  up  to  this  time. 

During  the  first  epoch  the  museum  had  no 
permanent  abiding  place.  Its  first  exhibition 
was  installed  in  the  Dodworth  Building,  681 
Fifth  Avenue,  a  private  residence  that  had  been 
altered  for  Allen  Dodworth’s  Dancing  Academy, 
and  exceptionally  well  constructed  for  the  pur¬ 
pose.  “  A  skylight  let  into  the  ceiling  of  the 
large  hall  where  the  poetry  of  motion  had  been 
taught  to  so  many  of  the  young  men  and  maidens 
of  New  York,”  wrote  a  contemporary  reviewer, 
“  converted  it  into  a  picture  gallery.”  The 
Cooper  Union  had  given  storage  to  the  nucleus 
of  the  museum’s  collections,  which  consisted  of 
one  hundred  and  seventy-five  paintings,  principally 
Dutch  and  Flemish,  but  including  representative 


CENTRAL  PARK  EAST 


329 


works  of  the  Italian,  French,  English,  and  Span¬ 
ish  schools,  secured  for  the  new  organization  by 
William  T.  Blodgett,  assisted  by  the  museum’s 
first  president,  John  Taylor  Johnson.  Owing  to 
the  outbreak  of  the  Franco-Prussian  War  Mr. 
Blodgett  had  been  able  to  secure,  on  most  ad¬ 
vantageous  terms,  two  collections;  one  belonging 
to  a  well-known  citizen  of  Brussels,  and  the  other 
to  a  distinguished  collector  of  Paris.  Mr.  Blod¬ 
gett  acted  on  his  own  initiative  and  purchased  the 
collections  at  his  own  risk,  exempting  the  trustees 
of  the  museum  from  any  obligation  to  take  the 
pictures  should  they  not  approve  the  purchase. 
Mr.  Johnson  immediately  assumed  half  the  re¬ 
sponsibility  of  the  purchase,  which  was,  however, 
ratified  by  the  trustees,  and  became  the  property 
of  the  museum,  in  1871. 

In  1873  the  headquarters  of  the  museum  were 
moved  to  the  Douglas  Cruger  mansion,  128  West 
Fourteenth  Street,  interest  in  the  movement  being 
stimulated  by  the  display  of  a  part  of  the  Cesnola 
Collection  of  more  than  ten  thousand  objects 
extracted  from  Phoenician,  Greek,  Assyrian,  and 
Egyptian  tombs  by  General  di  Cesnola  during  his 
six  years’  residence,  as  United  States  consul,  at 
Cyprus. 

After  ten  years’  nomadic  existence  the  original 


330  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


red  building,  still  standing  as  the  nucleus  of  the 
present  pile  on  the  Avenue,  bordering  Central 
Park,  was  opened  with  impressive  ceremonies, 
by  Rutherford  B.  Hayes,  President  of  the  United 
States,  in  1880.  The  occasion  was  rendered  the 
more  brilliant  by  the  placing,  for  the  first  time, 
of  the  Catharine  Lorillard  Wolfe  Collection  of 
paintings,  one  of  the  earliest  bequests  to  the 
galleries. 

The  architecture  of  the  original  building  was 
never  considered  a  feature  of  the  museum,  in 
which  every  consideration  was  sacrificed  to  in¬ 
ternal  convenience.  The  committee  of  architects 
appointed  to  superintend  the  design  included 
Russell  Sturgis,  Richard  Morris  Hunt,  and 
James  Renwick;  the  chief  architect  of  the 
building  was  Calvert  Vaux,  the  landscape  archi¬ 
tect,  who  with  Olmsted  had  laid  out  Central 
Park,  and  either  singly  or  with  some  associate 
planned  Prospect  Park,  Brooklyn,  Riverside,  and 
Morningside  Parks.  Jacob  Wrey  Mould’s  name 
appears  on  the  working  drawings,  and  the  Eng¬ 
lish  architect  of  All  Souls’  Church  was  no  doubt 
the  chief  designer  of  those  plans  which  the  mu¬ 
seum  officials  found  far  “  too  magnificent  and 
elaborate,”  though  he  is  little  credited  in  the 
official  reports  of  the  building. 


CENTRAL  PARK  EAST 


331 


The  museum,  once  established,  grew  rapidly 
and  the  first  building  was  soon  found  inadequate 
to  house  the  increasing  collections.  In  1894,  one 
year  before  his  death,  Richard  Morris  Hunt  de¬ 
signed  plans  for  the  new  building  that  was  to 
surround  the  first  structure  on  all  sides;  and  in 
1902  the  central  portion  of  the  east  front  was 
completed,  by  Mr.  Hunt’s  son,  Richard  Howland 
Hunt,  George  B.  Post  acting  as  consulting 
architect.  This  portion  of  the  building  departed 
from  the  original  red  brick  of  Mould’s  design, 
and  was  built  of  Indiana  limestone,  its  fa9ade 
enriched  by  medallions  and  caryatides  designed 
and  executed  by  Karl  Bitter.  The  medallions 
bear  the  heads  of  certain  old  masters  selected  by 
the  building  committee — Bramante,  Diirer,  Mi¬ 
chelangelo,  Raphael,  Velasquez,  and  Rembrandt, 
while  the  caryatides  represent  Sculpture,  Archi¬ 
tecture,  Painting,  and  Music. 

For  all  the  new  wings,  added  during  the  last 
period  of  the  museum’s  growth,  McKim,  Mead, 
and  White  were  appointed  architects,  and  these 
are  being  carried  out.  Carrere  and  Hastings  too 
have  had  their  part  in  the  construction  of  the 
museum,  having  designed  the  interior  of  the  East 
Wing  for  the  installation  of  the  Bishop  Collection 
of  Jade.  The  room  reproduces,  in  substance,  Mr. 


/332  A  LOITERER  IX  NEW  YORK 


Bishop’s  ballroom,  in  which,  previous  to  its  trans¬ 
ference  to  the  museum,  the  extensive  collection 
of  jade  was  displayed. 

The  scope  of  the  museum  is  comprehensive, 
ranging  from  the  earliest  beginnings  to  the  latest 
word  in  foreign  or  native  work.  There  is  no 
vagueness  in  the  display  of  the  collections,  which 
give  not  merely  illustrations,  hut  are  broadly 
outlined  in  the  synthetic  method,  the  gaps  con¬ 
stantly  filled.  Henry  Gurdon  Marquand’s  con¬ 
stant  gifts  to  the  museum  during  the  thirteen 
years  of  his  presidency  included  many  practical 
details,  such  as  the  collection  of  sculptural  casts, 
Renaissance  metal  work,  porcelain,  and  manu¬ 
scripts;  but  most  important  of  all  was  the  pres¬ 
entation  of  his  collection  of  thirty-five  paintings, 
among  which  arc  some  of  the  best  known  and 
most  esteemed  treasures  of  the  institution,  in¬ 
cluding  Van  Dyck’s  “.Tames  Stuart,”  Rem¬ 
brandt’s  “  Portrait  of  a  Man,”  and  Vermeer’s 
“  Young  Woman  at  a  Casement.” 

J.  Pierpont  Morgan’s  princely  giving  to  the 
museum,  of  which  he  was  president  from  1901  until 
his  death,  covered  many  fields,  of  which  the  most 
important  was  his  gift  of  the  Georges  Hoentschel 
Collection  of  objects  of  French  decorative  art 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  unmatched  in  any 


PORTRAIT  OF  HENRY  G.  MARQUAND,  BY  JOHN  SINGER  SARGENT 
METROPOLITAN  MUSEUM  (PAGE  332) 


4 


CENTRAL  PARK  EAST 


333 


public  museum,  and  providing  a  large  and  valu¬ 
able  nucleus  for  the  collection  of  European  dec¬ 
orative  arts.  The  disappointment  of  the  with¬ 
drawal  of  the  greater  part  of  his  loans  to 
the  museum,  after  his  death,  was  handsomely 
atoned  for  by  his  son’s  gift  of  the  clou  of  the 
collection  of  paintings,  Raphael’s  “  Colonna 
Madonna,”  which  had  for  years  been  one  of  the 
chief  ornaments  of  the  National  Gallery.  For¬ 
tunately  the  famous  Fragonard  panels,  lent  to 
the  museum  by  Mr.  Morgan,  were  bought  by 
Henry  C.  Frick,  and  installed  in  his  Fifth  Avenue 
house,  in  a  room  designed  to  contain  them,  so 
that  they  are  not  lost  to  New  York. 

The  recent  accession  of  the  Altman  Collection 
of  old  masters,  porcelains,  etc.,  places  the 
museum  upon  a  footing  with  the  galleries  of 
Europe  in  the  schools  represented.  The  Rodin 
Collection  is  a  feature  of  the  modern  department 
of  sculpture;  the  George  A.  Hearn  Collection  has 
its  important  place  in  the  development  of  Ameri¬ 
can  painting,  with  particular  reference  to  the  con¬ 
temporary  school;  while  the  department  of  early 
American  portraiture  is  rich  and  important. 

The  rocking,  swaying  Fifty-ninth  Street  cross¬ 
town  car,  in  its  shuttle-like  passage  east  and  west, 
skirts  the  boundaries  of  the  erstwhile  villages  of 


334  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Yorkville  and  Bloomingdale,  and  marks  a  line 
of  recession,  a  snapping  of  all  sympathy  and 
interest  between  adjacent  sections,  intensely  char¬ 
acteristic  of  New  York,  where  the  early  settle¬ 
ments,  absorbed  and  incorporated  in  the  growth 
of  the  city,  maintain  throughout  the  island  a 
marked  individuality.  This  individuality,  perhaps 
it  should  be  said,  expresses  itself  not  so  much  in 
externals — though  that  too — as  in  the  psychologi¬ 
cal  attitude. 

Sixty  years  ago  there  were  but  two  main  thor¬ 
oughfares  in  the  upper  part  of  the  island — the 
Boston  Post  Road  on  the  east  side  and  the 
Bloomingdale  Road  on  the  west.  There  was  no 
traffic  on  the  Avenue  save  the  drovers  who  fol¬ 
lowed  the  old  dirt  road  on  their  way  to  the 
Bowery  market.  From  the  Boston  Post  Road, 
long  lanes  led  to  the  residences  of  gentlemen,  who 
had  country  seats  on  the  East  River;  and  similar 
lanes  led  from  the  old  Bloomingdale  Road  to 
the  estates  on  the  Hudson. 

Of  these  old  houses  at  least  two  remain,  in 
excellent  preservation,  to  tell  the  tale  of  former 
style — Claremont  in  Bloomingdale  and  “  Smith’s 
Folly,”  or  the  Jeremiah  Towle  house,  in  York¬ 
ville,  near  the  end  of  the  Queensborough  Bridge. 
Bloomingdale  may  have  been  beautiful  in  the 


CENTRAL  PARK  EAST 


335 


correct  suburban  fashion,  on  the  high  banks  of 
the  noble  Hudson;  but  Yorkville  had  mystery 
and  interest  of  a  richer  flavour,  commanding  the 
passageway  to  the  Sound,  bordering  on  the  tur¬ 
bulent  waters  of  Hell  Gate,  and  overlooking  the 
islands  in  the  East  River. 

The  boundaries  of  Yorkville  have  been  vari¬ 
ously  described.  From  all  accounts  the  nucleus 
of  the  village  seems  to  have  lain  along  the  old 
Post  Road  between  Eighty-third  and  Eighty- 
ninth  Streets;  while  its  expansions  included  the 
district  east  of  Fifth  Avenue  to  the  river  from 
Fifty-ninth  to  One  Hundredth  Street.  The 
nomenclature  of  the  features  of  the  East  River 
shore  is  romantic  and  suggestive.  Kip’s  Bay 
indented  the  eastern  bank  of  the  river  at  about 
the  location  of  the  present  ferry  slips  at  Thirty- 
fourth  Street;  it  was  here  that  the  British  landed, 
when  they  took  possession  of  the  city,  on  Sep¬ 
tember  15,  1776,  while  the  quick-witted  wife  of 
the  owner  of  Incleberg  prepared  a  feast  for  their 
detention.  Until  1851  the  old  farmhouse  of 
Jacob  Kip,  who  gave  his  name  to  the  bay,  stood 
on  Second  Avenue  near  Thirty-fifth  Street. 

During  two  wars  with  England  fortifications 
occupied  the  vicinity  of  the  rocky  cove  on  the 
eastern  edge  of  the  Duffore  Farm,  near  Forty- 


336  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


fifth  Street,  known  as  Turtle  Bay.  Its  high,  pre¬ 
cipitous  banks  made  it  a  safe  harbour  for  small 
craft,  and  the  British  established  here  a  magazine 
of  military  stores  during  the  troublous  times  pre¬ 
ceding  the  outbreak  of  the  Revolution.  This  was 
raided  by  a  chosen  band  of  the  Sons  of  Liberty, 
led  by  John  Lamb  and  Marinus  Willett. 

Horace  Greeley’s  country  home  looked  out  over 
Turtle  Bay,  a  rambling  frame  structure,  buried 
in  shrubbery  and  shaded  by  fruit  trees,  and  only 
accessible  by  a  long  lane  turning  in  from  the 
Boston  Road,  down  which  rattled  the  hourly 
stage  to  the  city.  Time  has  removed  this  inter¬ 
esting  landmark,  together  with  the  historic  Beek- 
man  house,  which  stood  for  more  than  a  hundred 
years,  overlooking  Turtle  Bay,  west  of  Avenue 
A,  near  Fifty-first  Street.  James  Beekman  built 
the  house  in  1763;  it  was  a  plain  but  massive 
structure,  with  two  stories  and  a  basement,  and 
its  gardens  extended  to  the  Post  Road.  Clinton 
and  Carleton  occupied  it  as  headquarters  during 
the  Revolution,  in  which  it  figured  prominently, 
as  the  scene  of  the  condemnation  of  Nathan  Hale; 
and  beneath  its  roof  Andre  passed  his  last  night 
in  New  York  before  setting  out  for  West  Point 
upon  the  errand  which  cost  him  his  life. 

We  have  in  the  journal  of  Madame  Riedesel, 


CENTRAL  PARK  EAST 


337 


wife  of  the  Hessian  general  who  surrendered  at 
Saratoga,  a  description  of  the  Beekman  house, 
which  she  occupied  in  1780.  “  The  spacious 

rooms,”  she  says,  “  were  adorned  with  black 
marble  mantels  bearing  elaborate  carvings  of 
scroll  and  foliage.  The  fireplaces  were  orna¬ 
mented  with  Dutch  tiles,  representing  Scriptural 
subjects.”  Amongst  the  quaint  relics  of  the 
New  York  Historical  Society  is  the  drawing¬ 
room  mantel,  with  some  of  the  Dutch  Scripture 
tiles,  saved  from  the  old  Beekman  house,  torn 
down  in  1874. 

The  site  of  the  estate  still  retains  a  certain 
curious  character.  A  steep  incline  leads  up  the 
hill,  and  Beekman  Place  preserves  the  historic 
name  and  commands  an  extensive  view  of  the 
East  River  from  a  high  bluff,  for  the  river  shore 
is  bold  and  rocky,  and  the  current  too  swift  to 
admit  of  docks. 

The  old  Shot  Tower,  near  the  ferry  to  Black¬ 
well’s  Island,  keeps  vigil  over  a  disordered  board- 
yard,  concealing  every  trace  of  the  cultivated 
grounds  which  surrounded  the  “  Spring  Valley 
Farmhouse,”  built  about  two  hundred  years  ago, 
and,  until  recently  demolished,  known  as  the 
oldest  building  on  Manhattan.  A  perfect  speci¬ 
men  of  Dutch  architecture  of  two  centuries  ago 


338  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


the  house  was  built  by  David  Duff  ore,  or  de  Voor, 
to  whom  the  Spring  Valley  fan.-,  was  granted  by 
Governor  Andros,  in  1G77.  After  the  Revolution 
it  bore  the  names  of  Odell  and  Arden,  and  later 
became  the  Brevoort  estate.  The  curious  brick 
tower  near  the  ferry  slip  looked  down,  in  its 
day,  upon  the  sleek  property  of  the  Dutch  settler. 
Erected  in  1821,  it  replaced  a  tower  of  Revolu¬ 
tionary  days,  and  was  used  during  the  Civil 
War.  De  Voor’s  Mill  Stream,  or  Saw  Mill 
Creek,  ran  from  the  high  ground  of  upper  Cen¬ 
tral  Park,  and  was  crossed  at  Seventy-seventh 
and  Fifty-second  Streets  by  two  “  Kissing 
Bridges.” 

In  close  proximity  to  one  of  the  detested  gas 
tanks  of  modern  city  architecture,  near  the  ter¬ 
minal  of  the  picturesque  Queensborough  Bridge, 
on  an  eminence  from  which  the  streets  have  been 
levelled  at  any  cost  to  surrounding  property, 
stands  a  quaint  house  with  two  wings  and  a 
receding  entrance  between  them.  Rough,  heavy 
stones  indicate  ancient  masonry,  and  the  quiet 
pastoral  air  of  retirement  presents  as  pretty  a 
paradox  as  you  will  find  in  rambles  about  New 
York.  Still  strangely  occupied  as  a  residence, 
the  house  has  served  in  various  capacities  since 
more  than  a  century  and  a  quarter  ago  it  was 


CENTRAL  PARK  EAST 


339 


erected  as  a  stable  to  the  manor  house  of  Peter 
Pra  Van  Sant,  who  owned  the  farm,  extending 
from  the  old  Post  Road  to  the  river. 

Accounts  of  this  interesting  relic  differ,  some 
say  that  in  1795  the  whole  Van  Sant  property 
passed  to  Colonel  William  Smith,  the  son-in-law 
of  President  Adams,  a  soldier  of  Revolutionary 
fame — adjutant  general  under  Lafayette,  aide- 
de-camp  to  Washington;  and,  after  the  close  of 
the  war,  secretary  of  the  legation  to  England, 
where  he  met  and  married  Abigail,  the  accom¬ 
plished  daughter  of  John  Adams,  then  minister 
to  Great  Britain.  Others  say  that  Smith  built 
the  house  in  1799  as  a  present  to  his  bride, 
sparing  no  expense  in  the  construction  and  ap¬ 
pointments,  but  that  before  it  was  well  finished 
Smith  failed  in  business,  and  this  gave  to  the 
house  the  name  “  Smith’s  Folly.”  At  all  events 
the  property  passed  to  Monmouth  C.  Hart  when 
Smith  was  obliged  to  sell,  and  Hart  completed  it 
and  opened  it  as  a  road-house,  in  which  capacity 
it  served  until  1830.  It  was  readily  accessible  by 
means  of  one  of  the  long  lanes  turning  in  from 
the  Boston  Post  Road,  and  formed  an  important 
stopping  place  for  travellers  in  the  early  days. 
Its  character  is  picturesque,  and  Jeremiah  Towle, 
who  frequented  it  in  its  tavern  days,  was  so 


340  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


pleased  with  its  unusual  features  that  when  it 
came  upon  the  market,  on  the  death  of  Hart,  in 
1834,  he  bought  the  house  for  his  residence.  It 
was  occupied  by  his  family  as  late  as  1906. 

The  old  Schermerhorn  farmhouse,  until  1914 
a  landmark  of  this  region,  dated  back  to  colonial 
days.  It  was  built  in  1847  by  Symon  Schermer¬ 
horn,  one  of  the  old  Dutch  family  of  that  name 
settled  in  Albany.  Standing  on  a  bluff,  over¬ 
looking  the  East  River,  on  land  now  included 
in  the  grounds  of  the  Rockefeller  Institute,  the 
old  house  bordered  Jones’  Wood,  the  ninety- 
acre  farm  of  Samuel  Provoost,  the  first  bishop  of 
New  York  and  president  of  Columbia  College. 
The  bishop  had  a  cousin,  David  Provoost,  a  Revo¬ 
lutionary  soldier  with  a  rare  talent  for  smuggling 
which  won  him  the  nickname  of  “  Ready  Money 
Provoost.”  lie  used  to  hide  his  booty  in  “  Smug¬ 
glers’  Cave  ”  on  the  shore  of  the  bishop’s  farm, 
or  in  a  cave  at  Hallett’s  Point,  Astoria. 

There  was  an  old  house  at  Horn’s  Hook, 
belonging  to  Mrs.  Provoost,  taken  by  Archibald 
Gracie,  wTho  built  on  the  site  the  so-called 
“  Gracie  House,”  now  included  in  the  East 
River  Park.  This  house  in  its  day  saw  inter¬ 
esting  life  and  extended  princely  hospitality,  for 
its  owner  was  a  merchant  and  shipowner  of 


CENTRAL  PARK  EAST 


341 


wealth  and  had  excellent  connections  in  this 
country;  his  son  married  the  daughter  of  Oliver 
Wolcott.  Josiah  Quincy  describes  a  dinner  which 
he  attended  in  the  Gracie  House  in  1805.  Wash¬ 
ington  Irving  was  a  frequent  visitor,  and  the 
exiled  king  of  France,  Louis  Philippe,  is  said 
to  have  been  entertained  here. 

Before  the  rocky  bottom  of  the  river  was  blown 
up  at  the  point  where  the  Harlem  and  East  River 
tides  collide  in  their  rapid  action,  the  waters  of 
Hell  Gate  were  a  formidable  feature  of  the 
navigation  at  this  point.  The  Gracie  House  over¬ 
looked  this  prospect,  and  Quincy  speaks  of  the 
shores  of  Long  Island  as  full  of  cultivated  lands 
and  elegant  country  seats.  John  Jacob  Astor’s 
villa  adjoined  the  Gracie  estate,  and  Washington 
Irving  describes  this  delightful  retreat,  “  opposite 
Hell  Gate,”  where  he  retouched  and  perfected 
his  “  Astoria,”  written  at  Astor’s  request. 

The  spectacular  entrance  of  the  Queensborough 
Bridge,  uniting  New  York  with  Ravenswood,  in 
the  borough  of  Queens,  has  made  terrific  changes 
in  this  once  peaceful  locality.  One  of  the  most 
cruel  is  the  partial  destruction  of  that  charming 
realization  of  Pomander's  Walk ,  the  Riverview 
Terrace,  a  row  of  dwellings  built  directly  on  the 
top  of  the  rocks  facing  the  river,  and  cut  off  from 


342  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


all  contamination  by  gates  at  each  end,  guarded 
by  a  private  watchman.  Perhaps  I  feel  towards 
this  pretty  block  with  especial  tenderness,  from 
personal  associations,  for  a  certain  house  in  the 
terrace,  held  by  an  early  schoolmate  of  my  father, 
figures  in  my  earliest  and  latest  recollections  of 
New  York.  This  charming  old  gentleman  has 
been  one  of  the  stoutest  defenders  of  his  rights 
against  the  invasion  of  the  enterprises  connected 
with  the  construction  and  maintenance  of  the 
bridge,  which  has  taken  to  itself  half  of  the 
houses.  The  bridge  has  brought  many  annoy¬ 
ances  but  contributes  an  amazing  note  to  an 
already  exhilarating  view  of  the  river,  the  island, 
and  the  passing  craft. 


XVII 


CENTRAL  PARK  WEST 
Bloemendaal 

Broadway  in  its  pushing  American  way  has 
gobbled  up  all  the  pretty  highways  of  the  ancient 
town  and  outlying  villages  which  it  overtook  in  its 
reach  for  the  far  north.  Its  ambition  was  not 
satisfied  until  it  made  good  Lafayette’s  facetious 
question  concerning  its  ultimate  destination — “  Do 
you  expect,”  asked  he,  when  shown  the  plans  for 
continuing  the  main  thoroughfare  of  the  city  be¬ 
yond  Madison  Square,  “  that  Broadway  will  reach 
to  Albany?” 

In  its  steady  march  towards  the  accomplishment 
of  that  feat,  the  original  Heere  Straat  was  early 
lost  in  the  Breedeweg  of  the  Dutch  settlers,  while 
in  later  years  the  •  Kingsbridge  Road,  designating 
the  old  Post  Road  to  Albany,  has  disappeared 
from  the  modern  map  in  company  with  Blooming- 
dale  Road,  which  it  joined  at  One  Hundred  and 
Forty-seventh  Street,  continuing  along  the  west¬ 
ern  route  of  the  island.  Broadway  supplants  all 

343 


344  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


of  these — appropriates  the  ready-made  pieces  and 
links  them  together — and  by  that  summary  process 
becomes — vain  boast — “  the  longest  modern  street 
in  the  world.” 

Bloemendaal ,  which  bestowed  its  charmingly 
suggestive  name — the  vale  of  flowers — borrowed 
from  a  beautiful  village  near  old  Haarlem,  upon 
the  roadway  that  traversed  its  tract  of  fine  estates, 
extended  vaguely  in  Dutch  days  from  the  out¬ 
skirts  of  the  Bossen  Bouwerie  to  Claremont,  and 
contained  a  number  of  stately  mansions,  of  which 
scarce  one  stands  to-day.  I  remember  with  what 
vigour  of  impression  a  very  old  lady  of  my  ac¬ 
quaintance,  not  so  many  years  ago,  described  her 
sensations  on  discovering  that  an  apartment  house 
in  which  she  was  living,  on  the  west  side  of  the 
park,  was  built  on  the  very  site  of  her  father’s 
estate  in  Bloomingdale,  a  rich  farm  that  extended 
to  the  river.  Here  she  had  spent  a  happy  youth 
in  the  days  when  Spring  Street  bounded  the  north¬ 
ern  limit  of  the  actual  city;  and  here,  by  the 
caprice  of  fortune,  she  was  condemned  to  pass  a 
colourful  old  age,  “  boxed  up,"  as  it  were,  on  her 
own  father’s  territory,  now  strangely  perverted 
to  the  modern  idea  of  living,  “  as  they  call  it,”  for 
living  to  her  had  meant,  in  this  same  locality,  a 
vastly  richer,  more  expansive  state. 


CENTRAL  PARK  WEST 


345 


The  picturesque  Bloomingdale  Road  was  opened 
in  1703,  extending  from  Madison  Square  to  One 
Hundred  and  Fourteenth  Street,  and  following 
in  a  large  measure  the  line  of  present  Broadway. 
Included  in  the  district  covered  were  the  small 
hamlets  of  Harsenville  and  Striker’s  Bay,  while 
the  village  of  Bloomingdale  proper  centred  about 
One  Hundredth  Street.  Up  to  the  outbreak  of 
the  Civil  War  each  of  these  hamlets  had  a  sem¬ 
blance  of  village  life,  of  which  vestiges  remained, 
indeed,  until  all  local  personality  was  swallowed  up 
in  the  “  improvements  ”  following  in  the  wake  of 
the  elevated  road,  whose  immense  effect  was  to 
annihilate  distance  and  to  destroy  independence 
in  these  former  centres  by  making  all  look  easily 
and  profitably  to  New  York’s  city  market,  as 
the  logical  source  of  interest  and  supply. 

The  peculiar  conflict  of  incompatible  neighbour¬ 
hoods  that  occurs  at  Columbus  Circle  finds  its 
most  agreeable  outlet  in  the  three  smart  blocks, 
known  as  “  Central  Park  South,”  that  contain 
some  of  the  oldest  and  most  comfortable  of  New 
York’s  apartment  houses,  as  well  as  the  most 
modern  and  exotic  of  studio  buildings.  “  The 
Gainsborough,”  built  by  a  syndicate  of  artists,  is 
readily  distinguishable  for  its  interesting  front,  built 
largely  of  glass,  to  afford  light  for  the  painters, 


346  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


but  allowing  also  generous  space  for  the  handsome 
Mercer  tiles,  of  which  the  ornamental  upper 
fa£ade  is  constructed.  These  tiles  are  the  unique 
product  of  Henry  C.  Mercer,  of  Doylestown, 
Pennsylvania,  who,  having  established  himself  in 
the  heart  of  the  Pennsylvania  Dutch  country,  has 
devoted  a  lifetime  of  study  and  research  to  redis¬ 
covering  the  process  of  pottery  and  tile-making, 
which  the  industrious  German  settlers  had  im¬ 
ported  and  practised  over  a  century  ago. 

The  great  charm  of  the  building  rests,  however, 
upon  the  “  Festival  Procession,”  a  joyous  frieze 
in  four  parts,  extending  across  the  front,  and 
which,  including  the  bust  of  Gainsborough  over 
the  entrance,  is  the  work  of  Isidore  Ivonti. 

The  much  discussed  monument  to  “  the  valiant 
seamen  who  perished  in  the  Maine  occupies  an 
important  setting  at  the  Merchants’  Gate  to  Cen¬ 
tral  Park,  just  off  Columbus  Circle,  and  repre¬ 
sents  the  combined  invention  of  II.  Van  Buren 
Magonigle,  architect,  and  Attilio  Piccirilli.  sculp¬ 
tor.  Comparatively  unknown  to  the  outside  world, 
every  sculptor  values  the  exquisite  workmanship 
of  the  “  Piccirilli  Brothers,”  from  whose  studio 
and  workshop  in  the  Bronx  has  issued  many  a 
masterpiece  of  marble  carving.  There  are  six 
brothers,  all  of  whom  learned  the  trade  carried 


Copyright  by  Isidore  Konti 

DETAIL  OF  FRIEZE,  GAINSBOROUGH  BUILDING 
ISIDORE  KONTI,  SCULPTOR 


Copyright  by  Isidore  Konti 

DETAIL  OF  FRIEZE,  GAINSBOROUGH  BUILDING 
ISIDORE  KONTI,  SCULPTOR  (PAGE  346) 


CENTRAL  PARK  WEST 


347 


by  them  to  such  high  perfection;  while  Attilio  and 
Furio  went  further  and  became  accomplished 
sculptors  themselves.  In  the  Maine  Monument, 
therefore,  as  well  as  the  Firemen’s  Memorial  on 
the  Riverside  Drive,  one  sees  the  creation  of  At¬ 
tilio  Piccirilli,  carried  out  by  the  brothers  in  their 
most  accomplished  style. 

Civic  indifference  towards  sculpture  reached 
a  sort  of  climax  with  the  unveiling  of  the  Maine 
Monument  and  the  more  than  usually  stupid  snap¬ 
shot  criticisms  of  the  press  roused  a  storm  of  pro¬ 
test  from  the  sculptors  of  the  country,  demanding 
intelligent  criticism  as  the  first  step  towards  ad¬ 
vancement  in  every  phase  of  public  betterment. 
The  Maine  Monument  suffered  more  than  most 
from  a  perverse  misconception  of  its  intention, 
from  certain  railing  criticisms  and  heedless  witti¬ 
cisms  of  the  fun-loving  paragraphers,  who  do  so 
much  to  shape  public  opinion. 

Piccirilli  and  Magonigle  won  the  contest  for  the 
monument  over  forty-six  competitors,  and  for  the 
sculptor,  at  least,  the  work  became  a  labour  of 
love,  for  he  spent  over  twelve  years  in  toiling  at 
his  task,  in  creating  from  the  marble  these  sympa¬ 
thetically  chiselled  figures,  among  which  are  some 
— notably  the  reclining  representations  of  the  At¬ 
lantic  and  Pacific  Oceans — that  stand  amongst 


348  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


the  best  sculpture  that  the  city  offers.  The  criti¬ 
cism  has  been  made,  with  some  justice,  that  the 
architectural  mass  is  too  great  and  the  crowning 
note  inadequate,  but  sculptors  have  rallied  to  the 
defence  of  Piccirilli,  and  claimed  for  him  the  con¬ 
sideration  deserved  for  his  “  high-minded  conse¬ 
cration,  and  skill  in  the  handling  of  marble,  here¬ 
tofore  unknown  in  this  country.” 

Promenades  in  the  arid  region  west  of  Columbus 
Circle,  made  formidable  and  forbidding  by  the 
heavy  obtrusion  of  the  elevated  road,  which,  mak¬ 
ing  its  way  through  narrow  streets,  so  darkens  and 
threatens  the  passage  practically  condemned  to  its 
use,  lead  the  persevering  pedestrian  to  a  strange 
and  gloomy  church,  whose  immense  importance 
and  interest  is  comparatively  unknown  and  un¬ 
appreciated. 

Where  Ninth  Avenue  merges  its  identity  with 
Columbus  Avenue,  behind  the  rush  and  roar  of 
two  lines  of  elevated  trains,  stands  the  substantial, 
stone  structure  of  the  Paulist  Fathers’  Church, 
one  of  the  most  romantically  interesting  and  in¬ 
herently  foreign  of  the  churches  of  New  York. 
The  order  of  the  Paulist  Fathers,  the  sole  religious 
body  of  priests  of  American  origin,  was  founded 
in  1838,  by  five  converts  to  the  Roman  Catholic 
faith.  These  were  Isaac  Hecker,  of  the  Brook 


CENTRAL  PARK  WEST 


349 


Farm  community  of  transcendentalists ;  Clarence 
Walworth,  Francis  Baker,  George  Deshon,  and 
Augustine  Hewit.  Founded  for  parochial,  mis¬ 
sionary,  and  educational  work,  the  Paulists  do  not 
take  the  usual  vows  of  religious  orders,  but,  pro¬ 
fessing  to  follow  the  example  of  the  apostle  Paul, 
they  live  the  life  imposed  by  such  vows  in  absolute 
strictness. 

The  Church  of  the  Paulist  Fathers  represents 
in  its  impressive  interior  the  results  of  many  ex¬ 
periments  in  decoration.  O’Rourke  was  the  first 
architect  of  the  building,  which  was  about  ten 
years  under  construction,  the  clergy  having  first 
occupied  it  in  January,  1885.  The  first  blow  to 
the  church  was  the  erection  of  the  elevated  road 
across  its  face  before  the  edifice  was  well  under 
way.  Things  had  gone  too  far  to  make  possible 
a  change  of  location,  and  the  only  thing  to  be  done 
was  to  make  such  alterations  in  the  original  plan 
as  would  ameliorate  the  painful  conditions  imposed 
by  the  noisy  railroad.  The  architect  had  con¬ 
ceived  it  as  a  Gothic  church,  but  the  exigencies 
of  the  situation  carried  the  builder  away  from  the 
original  idea  and  the  result  is  something  between 
Gothic  and  Romanesque.  The  Gothic  windows 
that  were  to  have  lined  its  sides  were  done  away 
with,  in  order  to  eliminate  as  much  as  possible  the 


350  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


noise  of  the  passing  trains,  and  this  has  made  place 
inside  for  the  altars  in  the  side  aisles,  now  a  feature 
of  the  interior;  while  outside  it  was  intended  to 
fill  the  depressions,  indicating  the  place  of  the 
windows,  with  sculpture. 

Father  Ilecker,  who  was  the  executive  force  in 
the  conception  of  the  church,  had  unbounded  am¬ 
bitions  for  the  beauty  of  his  scheme.  It  was  his 
purpose  to  have  the  decorations  throughout  under¬ 
taken  by  the  famous  trio  of  artists  of  whom  we 
have  talked  so  much — White,  La  Farge,  and  Saint 
Gaudens — and  the  interior  owes  its  undoubted 
distinction  to  the  enthusiasm  of  the  three,  though 
La  Farge  is  there  most  in  evidence. 

Stanford  White  designed  the  facade,  and  built 
the  high  altar  and  the  two  side  altars  to  the  right 
and  left,  dedicated  to  St.  Joseph  and  the  Virgin. 
The  high  altar,  in  Siena  marble,  onyx,  and  ala¬ 
baster,  dominates  the  dusk  interior.  The  design 
is  pure,  and  parts  of  the  alabaster  are  over¬ 
laid  with  gold  to  give  warmth;  while  a  charming 
variety  in  its  severe  character  is  introduced  in  the 
three  adoring  angels,  in  bronze,  which  surmount 
the  whole.  These  are  the  work  of  Frederick  Mac- 
Monnies,  and  his  first  commission.  Inconspicuous 
as  they  are,  they  show  White’s  infinite  care  in  the 
detail  of  his  work,  and  his  appreciative  use  of  the 


“the  PACIFIC,”  DETAIL  OF  MAINE  MONUMENT 
BY  ATTILIO  PICCIRILLI 


THE  MAINE  MONUMENT,  COLUMBUS  CIRCLE 
H.  VAN  BUREN  MAGONIGLE,  ARCHITECT 
ATTILIO  PICCIRILLI,  SCULPTOR  (PAGE  347) 


CENTRAL  PARK  WEST 


351 


young  sculptors  just  back  from  European  study. 
Another  handsome  detail  is  the  exquisite  bronze 
lamp,  in  the  design  of  four  angels  supporting  a 
globe,  by  Philip  Martiny. 

La  Farge’s  work  in  the  church,  though  already 
prolific,  was  to  have  been  much  more  extensive; 
he  was  to  have  made  all  the  windows,  and  many 
panels  for  the  spaces,  now  bare,  left  by  the  elim¬ 
ination  of  the  windows  of  the  clerestory.  As  it  is 
his  work  may  be  readily  distinguished,  and  though 
much  has  since  been  done  to  detract  from  the 
beauty  of  his  unified  scheme  of  decoration,  the  in¬ 
terior  stands  an  imposing  monument  to  his  genius. 

La  Farge  at  the  time  that  the  Paulist  Fathers 
called  his  talents  into  requisition  was  just  back 
from  Japan,  and  very  much  under  the  Japanese 
influence.  The  entire  colour  scheme  of  the  church 
is  his,  and  he  made  the  best  of  the  decorations  as 
well  as  the  twenty-two  Romanesque  windows  that 
give  to  the  upper  part  of  the  church  its  distinctive 
character.  La  Farge  and  White  made  many 
changes  in  the  architecture,  both  apparent  and 
real,  in  an  effort  to  do  away  with  the  pointed 
Gothic  of  the  original  plan.  It  is  rather  amusing 
to  notice  the  trick  by  which,  in  these  windows, 
La  Farge  deceives  the  eye;  the  geometric  design, 
of  which  the  basic  colour  is  brown,  is  carried  out 


352  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


in  rich  blues  and  yellow  greens,  and  follows  an 
apparently  curved  line,  whereas  in  reality  the 
window  is  pointed  and  the  artist  has  cleverly  con¬ 
cealed  the  point  by  filling  in  the  top  with  indigo 
glass.  Considered  just  as  colour,  the  windows  are 
splendid,  though  not  strictly  ecclesiastic;  the  two 
jewelled  windows  in  the  sanctuary  are  particularly 
effective  and  characteristic,  and  were  to  have  bal¬ 
anced  the  three  central  figure  windows,  designed 
by  La  Farge  but  unfortunately  never  placed. 
The  conventional  substitutes  are  of  foreign  manu¬ 
facture. 

La  Farge  planned  to  decorate  the  whole  of  the 
sanctuary  and  finished  the  composition  on  the  left- 
hand  side,  consisting  of  “  The  Angel  of  the  Moon  ” 
surrounded  by  five  lesser  luminaries  in  circular 
panels,  as  well  as  the  five  corresponding  designs 
for  the  opposite  wall,  whose  central  figure,  “  The 
Angel  of  the  Sun,”  is  the  work  of  an  alien  hand 
and  disastrously  out  of  tone  with  the  rest.  The 
priests  evidently  had  troubles  of  their  own  with 
their  temperamental  decorator  and  one  can  build 
up  the  situation,  with  all  its  strains,  from  the  ex¬ 
isting  facts.  La  Farge  made  “  The  Angel  of  the 
Sun  ”  and  two  nine-foot  panels  for  the  sanctuary, 
but  they  were  never  placed.  Even  when  he  of¬ 
fered  them  to  the  church  for  the  price  of  installa- 


CENTRAL  PARK  WEST 


353- 


tion,  they  were  not  accepted.  After  his  death  his 
executor  offered  them  for  a  nominal  sum  and  they 
were  refused;  and  when,  after  his  death,  they 
appeared  in  the  catalogue  of  the  sale  of  the 
painter’s  effects,  no  effort  was  made  to  secure 
them,  though  they  brought  an  insignificant  sum. 

Fortunately  they  did  not  go  far  afield.  The 
Brooklyn  Institute  acquired  them,  and  they  hang 
in  the  central  corridor  of  the  Museum,  where, 
splendidly  lighted,  they  may  be  studied  and  ap¬ 
preciated,  though  it  should  be  remembered  that 
they  were  painted  for  a  shadowy  interior,  and  not 
for  close  inspection,  but  rather  in  a  large  way  that 
they  might  carry  well.  Some  day,  perhaps,  the 
Bacchante-like  atrocity  that  usurps  the  place  in¬ 
tended  for  the  true  Angel  of  the  Sun  may  come 
down  and  La  Farge’s  figure  be  given  its  proper 
setting. 

Before  taking  orders,  Father  Searle,  one  of  the 
congregation  of  Paulist  priests,  was  a  distinguished 
astronomer,  and  it  was  according  to  his  idea  that 
La  Farge  decorated  the  vaulted  blue  ceiling  with 
the  stars  and  planets  in  their  true  astronomic  re¬ 
lation,  as  they  appeared  on  the  night  of  St.  Paul’s 
conversion.  This  ceiling,  which  from  the  artistic 
point  of  view  is  rather  a  failure,  La  Farge  took 
pains  to  leave  in  obscurity,  another  effect  gained 


354  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


by  the  dark  blue  tops  to  the  Romanesque  windows. 
La  Farge’s  work  in  the  church  dates  from  about 
1886. 

Taken  all  in  all,  and  including  the  tragic  mis¬ 
takes  of  the  later  decoration,  all  of  which  is  most 
unworthy  and  trivial,  the  Church  of  the  Paulist 
F athers  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  the  dec¬ 
orated  churches  of  New  York.  Wandering  about 
in  the  dusk  of  its  chapels,  one  discovers  many 
things  which  show  that  the  intention  of  the  donors 
and  of  the  priests  was  for  the  best.  Robert  Reid 
painted  the  panel  in  the  first  chapel  on  the  left, 
representing  the  Martyrdom  of  St.  Paul;  opposite 
is  a  Crucifixion  by  the  Marquise  Wentworth,  a 
pupil  of  Bonnat;  in  the  Annunciation  Chapel  is 
a  charming  figure  of  the  Virgin,  by  Bela  Pratt; 
and  in  a  corner  near  the  south  entrance  is  a  bronze 
replica  of  Michelangelo’s  Madonna,  of  Bruges. 
The  inlaid  baptistry  was  the  gift  of  Augustin 
Daly. 

But  apart  from  its  beautiful  or  interesting  con¬ 
tents,  the  church  has  a  deeply  religious  atmos¬ 
phere,  a  character  of  its  own,  and  an  air  of  having 
been  used  and  loved.  I  am  sure  that  it  has  a  place 
in  this  strange,  paradoxical  community  in  which 
it  finds  itself,  that  it  offers  itself  as  a  tangible 
symbol  of  consolation  to  the  workers  who  hurry 


CENTRAL  PARK  WEST 


355 


in  and  out  of  its  hospitable  doors.  The  feet  of  the 
little  Bruges  Madonna  and  Infant  have  been  al¬ 
most  kissed  away,  and  the  old  wooden  floor  is 
dusty  with  the  tread  of  worshippers.  The  interior 
is  strangely  vast,  strangely  silent,  and  filled  with 
suggestion;  bare  and  remote  of  aspect,  it  is  remi¬ 
niscent  of  certain  gloomy  churches  of  Italy,  and 
this  bareness  and  pervading  sense  of  solitude  is 
not  without  a  very  definite  and  appealing  charm. 


XVIII 


COLUMBIA  HEIGHTS 

Not  the  least  of  the  charms  presented  to  the 
loiterer  by  the  district  known  as  Columbia 
Heights  is  the  delightful  means  of  approach. 
When  one  turns  through  many  busy  byways,  from 
the  banal  city  straggling  northwest  from  Columbus 
Circle  into  the  romantic  windings  of  the  Riverside 
Drive,  the  whole  face  of  nature  assumes  a  different 
aspect.  This  priceless  view  of  the  Hudson,  thus 
revealed,  saved  by  some  miracle  from  the  base 
uses  of  commerce,  yet  terribly  menaced  by  rail¬ 
road  encroachments,  as  we  are  daily  reminded,  is 
one  of  the  enchanting  reserves  of  New  York,  the 
one  instance,  as  one  might  say,  in  which  advantage 
has  been  taken  of  the  inherent  beauty  of  the  island 
formation.  This  tantalizing  sample  of  what  might 
have  been  done  for  the  protection  of  the  whole 
circumference  stretches  away  from  the  turn-in 
at  Seventy-second  Street  through  Washington 
Heights  and  Inwood  to  the  brink  of  Spuyten 
Duvvil  Creek. 


366 


COLUMBIA  HEIGHTS 


357 


The  top  of  the  lumbering  motor  bus,  in  all  winds 
and  weathers,  is  preeminently  the  place  from  which 
to  enjoy  the  unfolding  loveliness,  both  of  nature 
and  of  art,  presented  by  our  curious,  conglomerate 
city  as  the  feature  of  its  northwestern  boundary. 
One  should  know  it  well  and  know  it  at  all  seasons 
to  get  the  full  flavour  of  the  view,  so  charming 
in  the  morning,  so  dazzling  at  mid-day,  so  minor 
in  its  Whistlerian  envelopment  at  dusk,  so  brilliant 
in  its  contrasts  at  night. 

From  the  height  of  the  heavy  vehicle  one  towers 
above  the  hill-bound  river,  which  lies  flat  at  the 
bottom  of  the  gorge  its  course  has  cut  through 
the  surrounding  hills,  like  a  fine  old  chart.  The 
craft  is  different  from  the  panting,  steaming 
things  rushing  distractedly  about  through  the 
waters  of  the  East  River  and  the  Battery.  It 
belongs  to  the  pleasure-boat  variety — the  sloops, 
yachts,  and  launches  of  the  leisure  class — and  it 
lies  mostly  at  anchor,  with  a  peacefulness;  while, 
at  rare  intervals,  the  Albany  boat  slips  lightly 
through  the  waters,  with  its  freight  of  sightseers; 
for  the  palisades  of  the  Hudson  are  still  amongst 
the  wonders  of  the  western  world. 

In  summer  the  bus  route  lies  through  the  tree 
tops,  the  intervals  of  the  drive  happily  relieved 
by  fine  sculpture,  placed  admirably  in  the  grassy 


358  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


slopes  that  link  the  Riverside  Park  with  the  ter¬ 
races  of  the  residences  and  palatial  apartment 
houses  facing  the  river,  making  distinguished  notes 
of  interest.  Franz  Sigel,  the  German- American 
general,  who  rendered  valuable  service  to  the 
North  in  the  Civil  War,  is  honoured  in  the  bronze 
equestrian  statue,  mounted  on  a  simple  granite 
pedestal  at  the  head  of  a  flight  of  steps  leading  to 
One  Hundred  and  Sixth  Street.  The  statue  is 
by  Karl  Bitter,  finished  and  placed  ten  years  ago. 

Jeanne  d’Arc  has  been  so  adequately  sculptured 
as  an  equestrienne  by  her  compatriots,  Dubois  and 
Fremiet,  that  their  portraits  impose  a  certain  style 
upon  any  later  sculptor  attempting  a  representa¬ 
tion  of  the  legendary  figure.  Anna  Vaughan 
Ilyatt’s  monument  to  her  memory,  forming 
one  of  the  sculptural  features  of  the  Drive, 
contributes,  however,  a  remarkably  compact  and 
sculpturesque  idea  of  the  French  heroine  in  her 
sainted  character.  The  statue  has  the  Gothic 
spirit,  the  decorative  quality  of  the  French  monu¬ 
ments  of  the  period  to  which  it  relates;  its  model¬ 
ling  is  virile  and  strong,  while  to  the  whole  har¬ 
mony  of  effect  the  unusual  pedestal  brings  a 
decisive  character  both  satisfying  and  pleasing. 

To  these  two  embellishments  of  the  terraces 
sloping  down  to  the  Drive,  Piccirilli  and 


EQUESTRIAN  STATUE  OF  JEANNE  DARC,  BY  ANNA  VAUGHAN  HYATT 
RIVERSIDE  DRIVE  (PAGE  358) 


4 


COLUMBIA  HEIGHTS 


359 


Magonigle,  more  happily  in  combination  this 
time,  contribute  a  third — the  handsome  monu¬ 
ment  to  the  “  Firemen  ”  of  New  York,  dedicated 
in  1913,  and  containing  much  beautiful  sculpture. 
The  monument  is  in  the  form  of  a  sarcophagus, 
of  which  the  side  facing  the  Drive  bears  an  ex¬ 
quisite  low  relief,  whose  subject  is  “  The  Call  to 
the  Fire,”  while  at  the  ends  are  groups  of 
“  Memory  ”  and  “  Duty.”  With  the  passing  of 
the  fire  horses,  in  growing  favour  of  the  motor 
vehicles  for  quick  transportation  of  men  and  ap¬ 
paratus,  we  are  losing  a  strong  picturesque  touch 
in  city  life,  and  the  relief,  which  records  the 
moving  and  stirring  scene  of  magnificent  horses 
straining  every  muscle  in  an  effort  at  incredible 
speed  while  the  firemen  lean  far  over  the  shafts 
to  give  fullest  rein  to  their  powers,  will  soon 
have  an  historic  as  well  as  an  artistic  interest. 

The  motor  bus  combines  convenience  with  ad¬ 
venture.  It  opens  a  direct  way  to  Grant’s  Tomb, 
to  Claremont,  and  to  the  historic  Jumel  Mansion, 
on  Washington  Heights;  it  takes  one  within  a 
stone’s  throw  of  Columbia  University  and  easy 
access  of  the  Episcopal  Cathedral  of  St.  John  the 
Divine. 

One’s  sense  of  having  left  New  York  behind 
grows  when,  ascending  the  steep  slope  from  the 


360  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Riverside  Drive,  one  arrives  at  the  summit  of  the 
Morningside  Heights,  overlooking  the  deep  park, 
which  dips  down  again  to  the  lower  level  on  the 
east  side  of  the  island.  The  topography  of  the 
country  has  here  been  in  a  measure  preserved  to 
the  immense  advantage  of  the  new  city  that  has 
grown  up  about  the  University  and  the  Cathedral, 
and  it  is  with  less  difficulty  that  we  can  reconstruct 
its  primitive  condition;  for  certain  landmarks  still 
stand  to  indicate  the  outstanding  features  of  its 
colonial  history. 

We  are  now  upon  famous  ground  associated 
with  Revolutionary  days,  and  though  names  have 
been  changed  it  is  easy  to  recognize  in  Cathedral, 
Columbia,  and  Morningside  Heights  the  area  com¬ 
prised,  in  those  days,  under  the  general  title,  Van 
de  Water  Heights,  the  territory  occupied  by  the 
British  during  the  Battle  of  Harlem  Heights, 
fought  on  the  high  ground  and  in  the  valley  over 
a  widespread  field  between  the  two  encampments. 
The  American  forces  were  scattered  over  the  Har¬ 
lem  Heights  as  far  as  Washington’s  headquarters 
in  the  Jumel  Mansion,  overlooking  the  Harlem 
River,  above  Harlem  Plains.  This  was  then  the 
house  of  Roger  Morris,  a  royalist,  and  had  been 
seized  by  the  Continental  troops  in  the  summer  of 
1776  for  Washington’s  military  occupancy.  Hav- 


COLUMBIA  HEIGHTS 


361 


ing  the  “  most  commanding  view  on  the  island,” 
nothing  better  for  the  purpose  could  have  been 
devised. 

We  are  to  remember  that  Washington’s  army 
had  been  disastrously  worsted  on  Long  Island,  and 
landing  at  Kip’s  Bay  in  a  state  of  panic,  was  in 
frantic  flight  before  the  enemy,  when,  thanks  to 
Mrs.  Murray’s  strategic  inspiration,  General  Howe 
and  his  officers  were  diverted  from  pursuit  and 
kept  wining  and  dining  at  Incleberg,  on  the 
bold  word  of  a  charming  hostess  that  the  Ameri¬ 
cans  had  long  since  escaped  beyond  possibility  of 
capture.  All  this  time,  as  we  know,  Washington 
and  Putnam,  almost  within  earshot  of  the  tea- 
party,  were  exerting  superhuman  efforts  to  rally 
their  disordered  troops  in  Robert  Murray’s  corn¬ 
fields,  close  by  the  house,  somewhere  between  the 
present  Grand  Central  Station  and  Bryant  Park. 

The  thing  seems  nearly  incredible,  but  it  was 
almost  as  Albert  Herter  pictures  it  in  his  tapestry 
in  the  Hotel  McAlpin — Howe  and  his  subordinates 
yielding  to  the  blandishments  of  this  remarkable 
woman  while  Washington’s  army  files  silently  by 
in  full  view  of  the  enemy.  How  marvellous  she 
must  have  been — what  courage,  what  nerve  she 
displayed,  knowing  full  well  the  frightful  risks! 

After  the  retreat  of  the  American  army  from 


362  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Long  Island,  we  are  to  remember,  Washington 
retired  to  the  Apthorpe  Mansion,  in  a  stretch  of 
country  overlooking  the  Harlem  River.  Its  site 
is  pointed  out  between  Ninety-first  and  Ninety- 
second  Streets,  just  west  of  Columbus  Avenue. 
The  situation  was  well  fortified,  but  Washington 
knew  well  that  it  could  not  be  held  long  against 
a  British  attack,  and  so  he  sent  the  main  body  of 
the  army  to  Ilarlem  Heights  at  the  northern  end 
of  the  island,  and  left  only  a  force  of  four  thou¬ 
sand  men,  under  General  Putnam,  in  New  York. 
It  was  these  men  that  Putnam  was  trying  to  lead 
to  the  main  body  of  the  army,  under  cover  of  Mrs. 
Murray’s  hospitality.  Washington  came  to  the 
rescue,  and  the  two  generals  met  where  two  roads 
crossed,  close  by  the  present  intersection  of  Broad¬ 
way  and  Forty-third  Street. 

When  the  British  realized  that  the  patriots  had 
joined  the  main  army  and  were  safely  encamped 
within  a  mile  of  the  Roger  Morris  house,  they 
spent  the  night  along  Apthorpe  Lane  and  threw 
up  fortifications  just  north,  extending  across  the 
island  from  Hoorn’s  Hoek  to  Striker's  Bay. 

The  first  line  of  works  thrown  up  by  the  Ameri¬ 
cans  was  at  about  One  Hundred  and  Forty- 
seventh  Street,  and  the  hill  as  far  south  as  the 
“  Hollow  Way,”  the  valley  through  which  Manhat- 


COLUMBIA  HEIGHTS 


363 


tan  Street  now  passes,  was  occupied  by  Washing¬ 
ton’s  army.  “  Generally  these  were  the  posi¬ 
tions  of  the  two  forces  on  September  16,  1776. 
On  that  morning  Colonel  Thomas  Knowlton,  who 
had  seen  service  at  Lexington,  Bunker  Hill,  and 
Long  Island,  was  directed  by  Washington  to  make 
a  reconnaissance  of  the  enemy’s  position.  Mov¬ 
ing  southward  with  his  Connecticut  Rangers  along 
the  westerly  side  near  the  Hudson,  they  were 
screened  from  view  by  the  woods  covering  Hoog- 
landt’s  farm.  It  was  not  until  they  reached  Nich¬ 
olas  Jones’  farmhouse,  about  sunrise,  that  the 
British  pickets,  light  infantrymen,  were  encoun¬ 
tered.  Evidently  stationed  on  the  Bloomingdale 
Road  at  about  One  Hundred  and  Fourth  Street, 
their  regiments  were  encamped  a  short  distance 
to  the  south.  During  the  brisk  skirmish  which 
now  took  place,  the  woods  along  the  dividing  line 
between  the  Jones  and  Hooglandt  farms  echoed 
the  sharp  firing  from  both  sides.  The  forces  were 
so  disproportionate  as  to  numbers,  and  the  object 
of  the  movement  had  been  so  far  attained  that 
Knowlton  ordered  a  retreat,  which  was  effected 
without  confusion.  He  had,  however,  ten  killed 
in  action.  They  fell  back  along  the  line  of  the 
road,  closely  pursued.  The  enemy  halted  at  the 
elevation  known  as  £  Claremont,’  from  which  point 


364  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


they  could  catch  glimpes  of  General  Greene’s 
troops  on  the  opposite  slopes. 

“  This  was  the  third  time  within  a  month  that 
the  British  had  scattered  or  driven  Washington’s 
men  with  ease,  and  it  only  remained  on  this  occa¬ 
sion  for  their  bugler  to  sound  the  contemptuous 
notes  of  the  hunt  across  the  Hollow  into  the  Amer¬ 
ican  lines.  To  quote  one  of  the  latter’s  officers: 
‘  The  enemy  appeared  in  open  view  and  in  the 
most  insulting  manner  sounded  their  bugle  horns 
as  is  usual  after  a  fox  chase;  I  never  felt  such  a 
sensation  before — it  seemed  to  crown  our  dis¬ 
grace.’  Washington  had  gone  down  to  the  ad¬ 
vanced  position  and  heard  the  firing.  He  was 
urged  to  reinforce  the  Rangers,  but  was  not  im¬ 
mediately  persuaded  of  the  advisability  of  forcing 
the  fighting.  Eventually  he  determined  on  a  stra¬ 
tegical  plan,  viz.:  to  make  a  feint  in  front  of  the 
hill  and  induce  the  enemy  to  advance  into  the 
Hollow,  and  second,  should  this  prove  successful, 
to  send  a  strong  detachment  circuitously  around 
their  right  flank  to  the  rear  and  hem  them  in.  This 
plan  succeded  in  so  far  that  the  enemy,  seeing  the 
advance,  promptly  accepted  battle,  ‘  ran  down  the 
hill  and  took  possession  of  some  fences  and 
bushes,’  from  which  vantage  a  smart  fire  was  be¬ 
gun,  but  at  too  great  distance  to  do  much  execu- 


firemen’s  monument,  riverside  drive 

H.  VAN  BUREN  MAGONIGLE,  ARCHITECT 
ATTILIO  P1CCXRILLX,  SCULPTOR  (PAGE  359 ) 


"DUTY,”  BY  ATTILIO  P1CC1RILLI 
DETAIL  OF  FIREMEN’S  MONUMENT 


COLUMBIA  HEIGHTS 


365 


tion.  The  flanking  party,  composed  of  Knowl- 
ton’s  Rangers,  now  back  at  the  lines,  was  rein¬ 
forced  by  three  companies  of  riflemen  from  the 
Third  Virginia  Regiment  under  Major  Andrew 
Leitch.  In  some  unlucky  manner  the  attack  was 
premature  ‘  as  it  was  rather  in  flank  than  in  rear.’ 
Both  the  brave  leaders  fell  in  this  engagement, 
Knowlton  living  but  an  hour.  .  .  .  Nothing 
daunted  by  the  loss  of  their  commanders,  the 
Rangers  and  riflemen  pressed  on.  The  British, 
who  had  been  inveigled  into  the  Hollow  Way,  had 
in  the  meantime  been  put  to  flight  by  use  of  ar¬ 
tillery  and  were  pushed  back  towards  their  camp 
along  the  line  of  the  road  to  a  buckwheat  field  on 
top  of  a  high  hill.  Heretofore  the  manoeuvring 
had  taken  place  largely  on  the  Hooglandt  farm; 
the  main  action  was  then  transferred  to  Van  de 
Waters’  Heights. 

“  The  general  limits  of  this  ‘  hot  contest  ’  were 
the  high  ground  extending  from  Columbia  Uni¬ 
versity  around  westward  and  northerly  to  Grant’s 
Tomb  and  Claremont.  The  fighting  grew  into  a 
pitched  battle,  lasting  from  noon  until  about  two 
o’clock;  nearly  1,800  Americans  were  engaged, 
composed  of  commands  representing  New  Eng¬ 
land,  Maryland,  and  Virginia,  with  volunteers 
from  New  York,  New  Jersey,  and  Pennsylvania. 


366  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


“  The  enemy  finally  retreated,  followed  in  close 
pursuit,  and  the  day  was  won.  The  route  crossed 
an  orchard  just  north  of  One  Hundred  and  Elev¬ 
enth  Street  and  terminated  in  the  vicinity  of  Jones’ 
house,  where  Knowlton  first  found  them  in  the 
early  morning.  It  was  considered  prudent  to 
withdraw,  and  late  in  the  afternoon  the  troops 
returned  to  camp,  rejoicing  in  a  success  they  had 
not  anticipated.  It  is  estimated  that  about  thirty 
men  were  killed  and  not  over  a  hundred  wounded 
or  missing.  A  total  British  loss  of  171  was  re¬ 
ported.  This  action  put  new  courage  into  the 
patriots  and  exerted  a  wide  influence  over  subse¬ 
quent  events.” 

This  account  of  the  Battle  of  Harlem  Heights 
follows  that  of  Henry  P.  Johnston,  professor  of 
history  in  the  College  of  New  York,  and  is  quoted 
from  an  article  contributed  by  Hopper  Striker 
Mott  to  the  “  Historical  Guide  to  the  City  of 
New  York.”  *  The  Bloomingdale  Dutch  Re¬ 
formed  Church  at  One  Hundred  and  Sixth  Street 
and  Broadway  occupies  the  site  of  Nicholas  Jones’ 
house,  near  which  began  and  ended  the  Battle  of 
Harlem  Heights. 

This  whole  historic  region,  until  lately  wild  and 
uncultivated,  was  given  a  new  impetus  when,  at 


*  Compiled  by  Frank  Bergen  Kelley. 


COLUMBIA  HEIGHTS 


367 


about  the  same  time,  it  was  decided  to  locate  the 
Cathedral  and  Columbia  University  upon  the  high 
ground  overlooking  both  the  Hudson  and  the 
Sound.  That  part  of  the  old  Van  de  Water 
Heights  to  which  the  Episcopal  Cathedral  now 
lends  its  name  was  acquired  by  the  church  in  1887, 
and  the  vast  edifice  was  begun  in  1892,  and  now, 
after  a  quarter  of  a  century  of  slow  progress,  the 
crypt,  the  ambulatory,  and  the  choir  are  prac¬ 
tically  completed,  and  huge  in  themselves,  give 
some  hint  of  the  intended  dimensions  of  this  great 
Protestant  enterprise. 

Heins  and  La  Farge,  the  latter  a  son  of  the 
painter,  John  La  Farge,  won  the  competition  for 
the  plan  of  the  Cathedral  over  twenty-five  archi¬ 
tects,  in  1891.  Perhaps  the  greatest  success  in 
American  church  building  of  the  generation  in 
which  this  competition  was  held  was  the  Trinity 
Church  of  Boston,  which  had  been  built  by  Henry 
H.  Richardson  some  fifteen  years  previous.  A 
freely  treated  Romanesque  influence  preponder¬ 
ates  in  all  his  style,  and  as  many  of  our  younger 
architects  were  trained  in  his  atelier,  his  influence 
was  widely  felt.  Hardly  one  of  the  competitive 
designs  for  the  Cathedral  of  New  York  failed  to 
show  the  influence  of  his  works,  and  this  was 
natural,  for  Trinity,  in  its  day,  was  considered  the 


368  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


great  masterpiece  of  its  generation,  and  its  favour¬ 
able  impression  was  deepened  by  the  same  archi¬ 
tect’s  designs  for  the  Cathedral  of  Albany.  Heins 
and  La  Farge  fell  easily  into  the  style  which  Rich¬ 
ardson  had  introduced,  and  the  Cathedral  is  com¬ 
monly  called  Romanesque,  and  Romanesque  it 
started  out  to  be;  but  upon  the  death  of  the  senior 
partner,  Mr.  Ileins,  the  contracts  for  the  building 
were  ended,  and  upon  the  completion  of  the  choir, 
by  Mr.  La  Farge,  his  firm  retired  from  the  work, 
and  Ralph  Adams  Cram  was  appointed  supervis¬ 
ing  architect.  This  change  of  architects  accounts 
in  part  for  the  mixture  of  Byzantine  and  Gothic 
details,  such  as  the  windows,  the  pulpit,  and  high 
altar,  in  the  Romanesque  style  of  the  building; 
and,  as  the  work  advances,  other  more  important 
departures  from  the  original  scheme  are  to  be 
expected.  In  cathedrals  of  the  old  world,  whose 
construction  occupied  several  centuries,  such  com¬ 
binations  of  styles  were  inevitable  and  logical;  tbe 
Romanesque  melted  into  the  Gothic,  the  Gothic 
into  the  Renaissance,  as  a  church  grew  from  one 
century  to  another,  and  each  part  represented  the 
age  in  which  it  was  conceived.  But  in  the  case  of 
the  Cathedral,  where  every  detail  is  repeated  from 
classic  models,  or  based  upon  established  orders, 
and  nothing  is  characteristic  of  its  own  day  and 


COLUMBIA  HEIGHTS 


369 


place,  this  anachronistic  mixture  seems  unneces¬ 
sary,  though  criticism  of  the  incomplete  edifice 
is  premature. 

If  in  the  process  of  building  the  Protestant 
Cathedral  the  style  was  changed  from  Romanesque 
to  Gothic,  the  latter  appears  only  in  the  upper 
structure.  The  crypt  is  Romanesque,  gaining  a 
certain  romanticism  from  the  currently  accepted 
story  that  it  was  hewn  out  of  solid  rock.  Its  chief 
treasure,  the  famous  Tiffany  Chapel,  shown  at  the 
Columbian  Exposition  of  1893,  was  originally 
purchased  by  Mrs.  Celia  H.  Wallace,  of  Chicago, 
who  gave  it  to  the  Cathedral  at  a  time  when  the 
crypt  was  the  only  portion  of  the  edifice  where 
services  could  be  held.  It  has  lately  been  removed 
to  Mr.  Louis  Tiffany’s  estate  at  Oyster  Bay, 
where,  restored  to  its  pristine  loveliness,  it  is  set  in 
a  private  chapel  built  for  it. 

The  Tiffany  Chapel  constitutes  an  enduring 
and  elaborate  monument  to  its  maker,  Louis  C. 
Tiffany,  and  the  native  New  York  product  of 
his  unique  glass  industry,  developed  through  years 
of  research  and  experiment.  The  altar  is  of  white 
marble,  enriched  with  mosaic,  the  emblems  of  the 
four  evangelists  being  composed  of  pearl  and 
semi-precious  stones.  The  reredos,  in  iridescent 
glass  mosaic,  presents  a  design  of  the  vine  and 


370  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


the  peacock,  a  bird  found  in  late  Roman  churches, 
notwithstanding  its  bad  repute  as  the  emblem  of 
vanity,  and  the  companion  of  Juno.  A  series  of 
arches  with  ornament  in  relief,  overlaid  with 
gold  and  set  with  jewel-like  glass,  represent 
the  ciborium;  these  arches  are  supported  by 
mosaic-incrusted  columns.  Pendent  lamps  add 
to  the  brilliancy  of  the  altar,  which  glowed  in 
the  mystic  light  of  the  crypt  like  something 
supernatural,  and  the  effect  was  gorgeous  and 
impressive. 

The  choir  was  completed  by  Grant  La  Farge 
after  his  partner’s  death,  and  is  the  part  now  used 
for  services,  representing  less  than  half  the  ulti¬ 
mate  structure  in  length  and  breadth.  Its  striking 
feature  is  the  eight  Maine  granite  pillars  set  in 
a  semicircle  about  the  altar,  each  pillar  a  memo¬ 
rial.  The  altar  is  of  Vermont  marble,  the  reredos, 
surmounted  by  a  cross,  is  of  Pierre  de  Lens  rest¬ 
in'!  on  a  base  of  Numidian  marble.  In  the  centre 
a  figure  of  Christ  is  by  Leo  Lentelli,  who  also 
made  the  sixteen  angels  in  the  reredos,  while  Otto 
Jahnsen  is  the  sculptor  of  the  other  figures,  repre¬ 
senting  the  apostles,  prophets,  etc.  Near  the  front 
of  the  altar,  imbedded  in  the  marble  floor,  is  a 
square  red  tile,  fourteen  inches  square,  brought 
from  the  ancient  Church  of  St.  John  the  Divine 


ENTRANCE  GATE  TO  THE  BELMONT  CHAPEL,  CATHEDRAL  OF  ST.  JOHN  THE  DIVINE 
HEINS  AND  LA  FARGE,  ARCHITECTS  (PAGE  374) 


COLUMBIA  HEIGHTS 


371 


at  Ephesus,  built  by  Justinian  in  540  A.D.,  over 
the  site  of  St.  John’s  grave. 

The  dome  of  the  Cathedral  was  self-supporting 
at  all  times  during  the  advance  of  the  roofing 
and  bore  the  weight  of  the  workmen,  still  consid¬ 
ered  an  architectural  feat,  for,  since  the  building 
of  the  cupola  of  the  Duomo  in  Florence,  the  con¬ 
struction  of  a  dome  has  presented  a  pretty  prob¬ 
lem  to  architects. 

Vasari’s  racy  account  of  Brunellesco’s  final 
triumph  over  the  doubts  and  misgivings  of  the 
syndics  and  superintendents  of  Santa  Maria  del 
Fiore,  who  hesitated  to  entrust  so  grave  a 
matter  to  one  who  pretended  that  a  dome  could 
be  built  without  scaffolding,  without  a  column 
in  the  centre,  without  a  mound  of  earth  inside 
to  support  the  workmen,  contains  a  rare  de¬ 
scription  of  the  difficulties  which  the  building  of 
the  first  dome  since  the  days  of  the  ancients  pre¬ 
sented.*  He  pictures  the  conclave  of  wiseacres 
assembled  to  discuss  the  ways  and  means  of  erect¬ 
ing  the  cupola  upon  Arnolfo’s  cathedral.  Bru- 
nellesco,  having  aspired  to  the  joy  of  completing 
this  edifice  for  many  years,  and  having  worked  out 
the  correct  method  according  to  the  builders  of 
ancient  Rome,  whose  fragmentary  record  he  had 

*  Vasari’  “  Lives.”  Vol.  I. 


372  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


exhaustively  studied,  had  prepared  in  secret  a 
perfect  model  of  the  dome,  but  feared  to  show 
it,  knowing  the  jealousy  and  dishonesty  of  his 
rivals. 

To  the  solemn  conclave  therefore  had  been 
invited  the  most  distinguished  and  experienced 
masters  of  architecture  in  France,  Germany, 
Spain,  and  England,  together  with  those  of  Tus¬ 
cany;  all  the  best  Florentine  artists;  and  a  select 
number  of  the  most  capable  and  ingenious  citi¬ 
zens.  And  “  a  fine  thing  it  was,”  says  Vasari,  “  to 
hear  the  strange  and  various  notions  then  pro¬ 
pounded.”  Rrunellesco’s  claims  were  set  aside  as 
those  of  a  madman,  while  the  assemblage  discussed 
the  possibilities  which  occurred  to  them — the  cen¬ 
tral  pole  to  support  the  weight,  the  elaborate  fab¬ 
ric  of  scaffolding,  within  and  without,  etc. — while 
the  most  ingenious  method  suggested,  whose  art¬ 
lessness  gives  the  crowning  touch  of  piquancy  to 
the  anecdote,  was  that  the  entire  space  under  the 
proposed  dome  should  be  filled  with  earth  upon 
which  the  workmen  could  stand  in  safety  during 
the  operation  of  building.  It  was  further  devel¬ 
oped  that  the  enormous  expense  of  getting  rid  of 
the  earth  could  be  dispensed  with  by  the  simple 
device  of  mingling  in  it  small  coins  ( quatrini ), 
so  that  when  the  cupola  was  finished  and  the 


COLUMBIA  HEIGHTS 


373 


mound  no  longer  needed,  the  poor  Florentines 
could  be  depended  upon  to  carry  it  away  promptly 
and  gladly  for  the  sake  of  the  prizes  contained 
therein. 

But  Brunellesco  had  rediscovered  the  secrets  of 
the  ancients,  and  his  knowledge  still  serves  the 
architecture  of  the  present  day ;  and  yet  the  build¬ 
ing  of  a  great  dome,  such  as  covers  the  choir  of 
the  Cathedral,  is  a  marvellous  achievement.  The 
ceiling  is  to  be  covered  with  gold  mosaic,  which 
will,  in  a  measure,  ameliorate  the  startling  bril¬ 
liancy  of  the  series  of  nine  windows  that  are  to  fill 
the  ambulatory.  Three  are  now  placed.  The  sub¬ 
jects  are  drawn  from  the  Book  of  Revelation, 
and  the  entire  contract  is  in  the  hands  of  Ernest 
R.  Powell,  of  London.  The  Barberini  tapestries, 
which  adorn  in  a  wholly  irrelevant  manner  the 
present  interior,  in  an  attempt  to  soften  its  unfin¬ 
ished  bleakness,  are  interesting  in  themselves  and 
are  from  the  Palazzo  Barberini  at  Rome,  having 
been  produced  by  the  manufactory  formed  by  the 
cardinal  of  that  illustrious  family,  early  in  the 
seventeenth  century. 

Opening  upon  the  ambulatory  close,  about  the 
sanctuary,  are  the  seven  Chapels  of  the  Tongues, 
in  which,  following  the  ardent  wish  of  Bishop 
Potter,  services  are  conducted  in  different  lan- 


374  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


guages.  These  are  all  memorials,  designed  by 
different  architects.  The  first  was  given  by  Mrs. 
Potter,  in  memory  of  her  husband,  Henry  Codman 
Potter;  while  his  children  erected  the  handsome 
memorial  to  their  father,  the  chief  ornament  of 
the  church,  as  it  now  stands.  This  consists  of  a 
recumbent  figure  of  the  bishop,  reposing  upon  a 
sarcophagus  of  Siena  marble,  made  by  James 
Earle  Fraser,  sculptor,  and  Henry  Bacon,  archi¬ 
tect.  The  chiselling  of  the  figure,  in  white  marble, 
is  very  beautiful,  and  the  monument  a  dignified 
and  impressive  work. 

Of  the  chapels,  besides  this  one,  dedicated  to  St. 
James,  Henry  Vaughan  was  the  architect  of  St. 
Boniface  and  St.  Ansgarius,  the  latter  a  memo¬ 
rial  to  the  late  William  R.  Huntington,  of  Grace 
Church;  Carrere  and  Hastings  designed  the 
Renaissance  chapel  of  St.  Ambrose;  Cram  and 
Ferguson  the  French  Gothic  chapel  of  St.  Martin 
of  Tours;  and  Heins  and  La  Farge  made  the 
St.  Columba  and  St.  Savior,  the  latter  given  by 
August  Belmont  in  memory  of  his  wife,  Bessie 
Morgan  Belmont.  The  entrance  gate  to  the 
Belmont  chapel  is  a  magnificent  piece  of  work, 
and  the  large  window  is  distinguished  and  suitable. 

The  architectural  scheme  includes  an  extensive 
series  of  external  sculptures  by  Gutzon  Borglum. 


COLUMBIA  HEIGHTS 


375 


Across  the  street  from  the  Cathedral,  in  the 
chapel  of  St.  Luke’s  Hospital,  is  a  large  and 
interesting  window  by  Henry  Holiday,  the  dis¬ 
ciple  of  Burne-Jones,  erected  to  the  memory  of 
Adam  Norrie  and  William  Augustus  Muhlenberg, 
the  founder  of  the  hospital,  by  Gordon  Norrie. 
Though  there  are  many  windows  by  Henry  Holi¬ 
day  in  New  York,  none  so  handsomely  presents 
the  English  glass,  in  its  best  period,  as  this 
“  Christ  the  Consoler  and  the  Seven  Acts  of 
Mercy.”  The  groups  of  sufferers  are  types  rather 
than  symbols,  but  attention  may  be  called  to  the 
archangels  Gabriel  and  Michael,  who  stand  as 
supporters  on  each  side  of  the  throne;  the  former, 
who  announced  the  birth  of  the  Saviour,  appears 
as  the  bringer  of  good,  with  the  accompanying 
words,  “Immanuel,  God  with  Us”;  and  the 
latter,  who  overcame  the  devil,  as  the  banisher 
of  evil,  with  the  words,  “  Deliver  Us  from 
Evil.” 

A  few  years  ago  Morningside  Park  received  an 
important  memorial  statue  to  Carl  Schurz,  our 
Prussian  statesman,  journalist,  and  general,  who 
came  to  this  country  at  the  age  of  twenty-three 
years  and  rendered  distinguished  service  to  the 
Union  Army  in  the  Civil  War,  serving  at  the 
battles  of  Bull  Run,  Chancellorsville,  Gettysburg, 


37G  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


and  Chattanooga.  This  portrait  statue,  with  ex- 
edra  and  two  reliefs,  has  been  considered  the  most 
perfect  achievement  of  Karl  Ritter,  and  perhaps, 
as  the  complete  work  of  his  hand,  best  represents 
that  sculptor  in  the  city.  The  monumental  char¬ 
acter  of  the  figure,  achieved  without  loss  of  per¬ 
sonal  interest,  is  sufficiently  compelling  to  arrest 
the  eye  of  one  who  looks  among  the  chaff  of  our 
innumerable  portrait  statues  for  the  occasional 
grain  of  wheat;  but  the  real  importance  of  the 
monument,  in  which  lies  its  peculiar  claim  to  atten¬ 
tion,  is  contained  in  those  astonishing  reliefs  so 
eloquently  cut  into  the  hard,  black  granite  at  the 
ends  of  the  exedra.  There  is  nothing  like  them 
in  American  art,  and  they  repeat  with  the  vigour 
and  assurance  of  original  conception  the  suggestion 
of  those  primitive  Egyptian  and  Assyrian  silhou¬ 
etted  animal  forms,  the  types  of  such  art.  Their 
subjects  relate  abstractly  to  the  great  human  in¬ 
terests  of  Schurz’  life — the  freedom  of  slaves  and 
the  enlightenment  of  a  people — but  our  absorbed 
attention  is  not  for  subject,  but  for  the  charm  of 
those  flowing  contours,  the  strength  and  vivacity 
of  accent,  the  beauty  and  purity  of  line,  suggested 
in  its  delineation. 

Carl  Schurz  faces  the  termination  of  the  street 
that  leads  back  to  Columbia  University,  and  turns 


RECUMBENT  FIGURE,  BISHOP  HENRY  CODMAN  POTTER 
CATHEDRAL  OF  ST.  JOHN  THE  DIVINE 
JAMES  EARLE  FRASER,  SCULPTOR  (PAGE  3/4) 


RELIEF,  CARL  SCHURZ'  MONUMENT,  MORNINGSIDE  PARK 
KARL  BITTER,  SCULPTOR  (PAGE  376) 


COLUMBIA  HEIGHTS 


377 


his  back  upon  the  intimate  beauties  of  Morning- 
side  Park,  that  climbs  the  precipice  upon  whose 
summit  the  statue  rests.  There  is  a  commanding 
view  here  of  the  vast  city  from  which  the  Morn- 
ingside  Heights  detaches  itself,  encompassing 
within  itself  that  miniature  city  included  in  the 
great  composition  of  the  Columbia  University,  to 
which,  following  the  direction  indicated  by  the 
monument,  we  are  now  to  turn. 

Columbia,  with  her  vast  resources,  seems  to  have 
found  a  permanent  resting-place  in  a  situation 
that  combines  at  once  the  advantages  of  the  coun¬ 
try  with  a  ready  accessibility  to  the  heart  of  the 
city.  Yet  the  move  was  considered  radical  enough 
when  first  contemplated,  in  1891. 

Columbia  had  already  made  one  northward 
move  before  the  drive  of  the  city’s  growth;  its 
first  site  was  upon  a  grant  of  land  bestowed  by 
the  Trinity  Church  corporation,  lying  between 
Murray  and  Barclay  Streets,  and  extending  from 
Church  Street  to  the  river.  During  the  time  that 
de  Lancey  governed  the  province  the  founding 
of  a  college  was  considered,  and  money  for  the 
purpose  raised  by  lotteries,  while  preliminary 
classes  were  held  in  the  vestry  of  Trinity  Church. 
Finally,  in  1754,  a  royal  charter  was  granted  by 
George  II  to  “  King’s  College,”  and  two  years 


378  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


later  the  corner-stone  of  the  first  college  building 
was  laid.  A  tablet  near  Broadway  and  Murray 
Street  marks  the  first  home  of  our  great  Uni¬ 
versity. 

It  was  a  small  group  of  New  Yorkers  who 
founded  King’s  College,  at  a  time  when  Manhat¬ 
tan  Island  had  fewer  inhabitants  by  some  hundreds 
than  Columbia  has  now  students,  and  but  thirteen 
of  the  founders  held  academic  degrees.  Never¬ 
theless  they  drew  a  charter  whose  liberality  in 
times  of  bitter  religious  controversy  and  narrow 
intellectual  outlook  showed  remarkable  breadth 
and  an  extraordinary  confidence  in  the  future. 
The  first  class,  numbering  seven  students,  grad¬ 
uated  in  1758;  Hamilton,  Livingston,  and  Jay 
were  early  graduates,  and  De  Witt  Clinton  was 
the  first  student  to  enter  college  after  peace,  fol¬ 
lowing  the  Revolution,  was  declared.  The  year 
of  the  founding  coincided  with  that  in  which  the 
Colonial  Congress  met  at  Albany  to  discuss  the 
Colonial  Union,  and  the  little  college  caught  the 
spirit  of  the  day  and  played  its  brave  part  in  the 
founding  of  the  republic.  The  schools  were  closed 
during  the  w-ar,  and  upon  reopening,  in  1781,  the 
name  “  Columbia,”  coined  by  the  patriots  and 
popularized  in  a  Revolutionary  song,  was  adopted, 
in  place  of  “  King’s,”  in  vindication  of  our  glorious 


COLUMBIA  HEIGHTS 


379 


independence.  The  old  iron  crown  that  once 
formed  the  finial  of  King’s  College  is  treasured 
in  the  library  of  the  new  University. 

Columbia  outgrew  its  first  habitat  after  a  cen¬ 
tury  of  occupancy,  and  spent  the  next  forty  years 
in  a  semi-temporary  location  at  Forty-ninth  Street 
and  Madison  Avenue.  The  new  site,  on  Morning- 
side  Heights,  encumbered  at  the  time  of  its  pur¬ 
chase  by  the  Bloomingdale  Asylum  for  the  Insane, 
did  not  come  into  the  possession  of  the  University 
until  October,  1894,  three  years  after  its  acquisi¬ 
tion  by  the  trustees.  The  interim  was  employed 
in  raising  the  necessary  funds  for  the  change,  and 
in  considering  the  architectural  schemes  presented 
by  various  architects  for  the  new  building,  with 
the  result  that  the  Renaissance  plan  recommended 
by  Charles  F.  McKim  and  his  partners  was 
selected,  and  Mr.  McKim’s  devoted  share  towards 
making  the  University  what  it  is  to-day  is  recorded 
in  the  inscription  placed  in  his  honour  in  the  South 
Court:  De  super  artificis  spectant  monumenta  per 
annos. 

We  have  spoken  a  great  deal  of  the  contribution 
of  Stanford  White  towards  the  making  of  New 
York,  and  the  time  has  now  come  to  dwell  per¬ 
haps  a  little  more  in  particular  upon  the  work 
of  the  distinguished  senior  partner  of  the  firm. 


380  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Charles  Follen  McKim,  of  whom  the  University 
Library  was  the  first  great  monumental  work,  and 
McKim’s  own  child.  McKim,  like  White,  had 
been  reared  in  the  atelier  of  H.  H.  Richardson; 
if  White  was  Richardson’s  first  assistant  in  the 
building  of  Trinity  Church,  Boston,  McKim 
worked  on  the  winning  design,  and  there  is  no 
doubt  that  to  this  earlier  architect,  who  with  Hunt 
had  been  the  dominant  man  in  the  profession  in 
America,  the  young  firm  owed  much  of  its  thor¬ 
oughness  and  skill. 

Richardson  was  the  first  architect  of  note  in 
America,  in  the  past  generation,  to  lay  supreme 
stress  upon  the  importance  of  the  material  in  con¬ 
struction.  McKim,  trained  in  his  office,  learned 
this  side  of  the  profession,  and  his  firm  carried  on 
and  developed  the  traditions,  sparing  themselves 
neither  time  nor  expense  to  insure  solid  work  per¬ 
fectly  carried  out.  This  firm,  as  we  know  it,  was 
formed  in  1879,  and  as  one  writer  has  said,  the 
conditions  which  faced  Sir  Christopher  Wren, 
when,  after  the  great  fire  of  London,  he  was  called 
upon  to  plan  the  rebuilding  of  that  city,  were  in 
many  ways  similar  to  those  which  confronted  the 
young  firm  of  McKim,  Mead,  and  White  when 
they  began  the  transformation  of  New  York  from 
a  very  ugly  and  commonplace  town  to  the  brilliant 


SETH  LOW  MEMORIAL  LIBRARY,  COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY 
CHARLES  FOLLEN  MCKIM,  ARCHITECT  (PAGE  383) 


DANIEL  CHESTER  FRENCH,  SCULPTOR  (PAGE  384)  Copyright  by  Daniel  Chester  French 


COLUMBIA  HEIGHTS 


381 


city  of  to-day.  McKim  departed  from  the  Roman¬ 
esque  style  which  Richardson  had  introduced,  and 
which  he  alone  handled  with  any  distinguished 
success. 

The  early  work  of  the  young  architects  natu¬ 
rally  was  domestic.  They  built  many  private 
houses,  of  which  one  of  the  most  beautiful  is  the 
Kane  house  at  Fifth  Avenue  and  Forty-ninth 
Street.  Of  their  clubs,  the  Century  is  the  oldest, 
and  was  almost  wholly  the  design  of  White,  and 
a  striking  example  of  his  skill,  presenting  to  Forty- 
third  Street  a  simple  balanced  fa<^ade  of  stone, 
brick,  and  terra  cotta.  This  was  one  of  the  first 
buildings  in  the  United  States  in  which  the  long, 
thin  “  Roman  ”  brick  was  used  and  may  be  said 
to  have  created  the  fashion.  The  Harvard  Club 
is  a  beautiful  example  of  Georgian  architecture, 
while  the  University  and  Metropolitan  Clubs, 
credited  respectively  to  McKim  and  White,  are 
in  effect  monuments  to  their  mastery  of  design. 
It  is  interesting  to  note  that  the  chef  d’ oeuvre  of 
the  firm,  the  Boston  Public  Library,  stands  oppo¬ 
site  Richardson’s  masterpiece,  Trinity  Church,  in 
Copley  Square,  and  these  two  monuments  make 
the  distinction  of  that  locality. 

McKim’s  individual  skill  in  design  is  wonder¬ 
fully  exemplified  in  that  pure  architectural  gem, 


382  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


the  Morgan  Library;  his  intensely  practical  re¬ 
sources,  in  the  Pennsylvania  Terminal.  In  the  one 
we  see  the  essence  of  restraint  and  discrimination, 
the  elegance  of  a  casket  destined  to  hold  the  treas¬ 
ures  of  a  multimillionaire  bibliophile;  in  the  other 
the  monumental  gateway  of  a  great  city.  In  the 
Pennsylvania  Terminal  the  suggestion  of  style 
came  from  the  great  Roman  baths,  and  the  marvel 
is  that  so  huge  a  scheme,  so  monumental  in  char¬ 
acter,  should  combine  so  many  impressive  and 
practical  features.  When  we  know  that  McKim 
was  excluded  from  the  final  competition  for  the 
New  York  Public  Library  because  he  refused  to 
sacrifice  architectural  beauty  to  convenience,  the 
Terminal  becomes  the  more  important  as  showing 
how  in  the  lapse  of  years  the  architect  developed 
the  power  to  combine  the  two.  The  only  real  in¬ 
convenience  of  the  station  is,  perhaps,  that  one 
may  well  miss  the  train  long  after  having  arrived 
at  the  main  portal,  so  much  ground  has  to  be 
covered  on  foot  after  entering  the  building,  but 
given  a  moderate  allowance  of  leisure  nothing 
could  be  more  admirable  that  the  silent  way  in 
which,  entering  what  the  French  so  picturesquely 
call  the  Salle  des  Pas  Perdus,  particularly  appli¬ 
cable  to  this  vast  apartment  where  footsteps  are 
eaten  up  by  the  lofty  space  and  all  sound  becomes 


COLUMBIA  HEIGHTS 


383 


negligible,  all  the  necessary  features  of  departure 
and  arrival  are  spread  before  one  in  logical 
sequence.  Again  the  concourse  with  its  accessible 
exits,  its  facilities  for  disbursing  crowds  without 
confusion  or  disorder,  its  quiet  apertures  for 
descending  to  the  trains  arriving  and  departing 
through  the  tunnel,  is  a  very  great  feat  of  plan¬ 
ning,  indeed  almost  flawless,  so  far  as  is  humanly 
possible.  The  very  decorations  of  the  building, 
confined  to  great  decorative  maps  of  the  country, 
handled  by  that  master  of  flat  surfaces,  Jules 
Guerin,  contribute  the  crowning  note  of  utility 
made  beautiful,  a  thing  so  rare  in  New  York  as 
to  merit  profound  study.  This  was  McKim’s  last 
work;  he  died,  in  1909,  while  the  Terminal  was 
under  construction. 

The  Columbia  Library,  then,  was  McKim’s  first 
monumental  work,  conceived  as  the  axis  of  the 
whole  symmetrical  system  of  buildings  which  react 
to  its  integral  beauty.  It  remains,  within  and 
without,  a  most  complete  and  consistent  modern 
edifice.  The  library  was  the  gift  of  the  president 
of  the  University,  Seth  Low,  and  constitutes  a 
memorial  to  his  father,  Abiel  Abbott  Low,  a 
citizen  of  Brooklyn  and  merchant  of  New 
York.  The  Chamber  of  Commerce  preserves  his 
portrait. 


384  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Built  of  grey  limestone,  its  commanding  dome 
and  noble  portico  carrying  the  note  of  resemblance, 
its  architecture,  true  to  the  tenets  of  its  designer, 
follows  the  most  perfect  of  prototypes.  The  Villa 
Rotonda,  of  Vicenzo,  was  the  model,  and  how 
closely  it  follows  Palladio’s  masterpiece  may 
readily  be  determined  by  a  comparison  of  the 
library  with  the  handsome  painting  of  the  classic 
edifice  in  the  permanent  collection  of  the  Brooklyn 
Museum. 

The  approach  to  the  library,  through  the  South 
Court,  which  is,  of  course,  the  entrance  to  the 
whole  compact  scheme  of  the  University  buildings, 
is  made  the  more  impressive  and  memorable  by 
the  presence,  on  the  steps,  of  French’s  “  Alma 
Mater,”  a  figure  at  once  commanding  and  winning. 
Mr.  French  devoted  a  large  part  of  the  years 
1902  and  1903  to  this  statue,  for  which  the  model 
was  Miss  Mary  Lawton,  the  American  actress, 
whose  personality  may  be  traced,  with  almost  the 
fidelity  of  portraiture,  in  many  of  the  sculptor’s 
statuesque  figures.  The  setting  is  superb,  both 
for  the  sculpture  and  the  library.  The  large  court, 
in  the  Italian  style,  with  its  paved  esplanade,  its 
granite  wall  and  balustrade  on  three  sides,  and  the 
great  stone  vases,  flowers,  shrubs,  and  exuberant 
fountains,  gives  poise  and  dignity,  while  from  it 


FOUNTAIN  OF  THE  GOD  PAN,  WITH  EXEDRA,  CAMPUS  OF  COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY 
GEORGE  GRAY  BARNARD,  SCULPTOR  (PAGE  386) 


detail  of  Barnard's 

FOUNTAIN  OF  PAN 


COLUMBIA  HEIGHTS  385 

wide  steps  lead  to  the  library  grade,  ten  feet  above 
the  street. 

A  striking  note  of  unity  is  achieved  through  the 
fact  that  the  other  buildings  of  the  group  have  all 
the  same  base  line  as  the  library,  which  is  150  feet 
above  the  Hudson,  and  the  same  cornice  line,  sixty- 
nine  feet  higher.  All  the  buildings  open  upon  the 
campus,  which  gives  to  the  effect  a  security  simi¬ 
lar  to  that  of  a  walled  city.  As  the  buildings 
included  in  the  plan  are  filled  in  the  purpose  of 
the  original  conception  gains  coherence.  The  large 
scale  provides  for  spacious  interiors,  and  the  whole 
mass  of  the  composition  makes  a  strong  centre  in 
the  arrangement  of  the  Heights,  not  merely  effec¬ 
tive  in  itself,  but  important  as  a  basis  for  the 
architectural  development  of  the  entire  surround¬ 
ing  district. 

The  colour  decoration  of  the  library  represents 
the  taste  of  the  same  artist  whose  murals  furnish 
the  important  interior  feature  of  the  Custom 
House,  Elmer  E.  Garnsey,  who  has  made  of  this 
one  of  the  most  perfect  examples  of  its  kind.  The 
interior  of  St.  Paul’s  chapel,  recalling  the  early 
Renaissance  churches  of  Northern  Italy,  consid¬ 
ering  its  Italian  chancel  furniture,  its  fine  organ, 
and  minor  details  of  equipment,  together  with  its 
architectural  beauty,  becomes  one  of  the  most 


386  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


precious  artistic  possessions  of  the  University. 
The  three  interesting  windows  are  by  John  La 
Farge. 

Practically  all  of  the  art  treasures  of  the  campus 
and  interiors  have  come  to  the  institution  by  gift. 
Le  Marteleur,  one  of  Constant  Meunier’s  forceful 
presentations  of  workmen,  came  to  the  University 
from  the  class  of  1889,  and  was  purchased  from 
the  exhibition  of  the  Belgian  sculptor’s  works  held 
in  one  of  the  halls,  in  1914.  George  Gray  Bar¬ 
nard’s  spirited  fountain  of  Pan,  piping  to  the  birds 
which  bathe  in  the  basin  below  him,  was  presented 
in  1907  by  Edward  Severin  Clark.  This  recum¬ 
bent  statue,  with  its  mysterious  expression,  its 
oddly  perverse  legs,  with  inverted  joints,  has  much 
charm  of  surface  modelling,  while  its  polished 
black  bronze  makes  an  effective  note  in  a  seques¬ 
tered  corner  of  the  campus. 


XIX 


INWOOD 

Manhattanville  to  Kingsbridge 

When  Gouverneur  Morris,  Simeon  de  Witt, 
and  John  Rutherford,  a  century  ago,  with  square 
and  ruler  marked  the  monotonous  future  of  the 
island  city,  they  laid  upon  her  a  curse  against 
which  succeeding  generations  seem  to  have  been 
powerless.  “  Straight-sided  and  right-angled 
houses  were  “  the  most  cheap  to  live  in,”  they 
decreed,  and  so  the  “  dry-goods-box-set-up-on- 
end  ”  style  of  architecture,  which  Hopkinson 
Smith  so  picturesquely  anathematized,  has  fol¬ 
lowed  up  the  course  of  subway  development, 
presenting  its  bewindowed  faces,  “  like  so  many 
underdone  waffles,”  from  Battery  Park  to  Harlem 
Creek  and  on  beyond  throughout  the  parallele¬ 
pipeds  of  the  Bronx. 

While  mighty  engineers  burrowed  and  blasted 
their  terriffic  trail  through  the  gneiss  and  trap-rock 
of  the  substratum,  pick  and  shovel  made  sum¬ 
mary  disposal  of  the  features  overhead;  hill  was 

387 


388  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


dumped  into  dale  as  the  shortest  cut  to  the  desired 
dead  level  of  civilization,  and  the  ponderous  steam¬ 
roller,  following  in  their  train,  crushed  and  flat¬ 
tened  any  obdurate  remnants  of  variability  in  a 
landscape  of  whose  handsome  topography  we  have 
even  yet  dramatic  evidence. 

At  this,  the  eleventh  hour,  there  has  arisen  a 
sort  of  desperate  movement  to  “  save  the  pieces.” 
Inherent  beauty,  driven  before  the  hand  of  prog¬ 
ress,  even  as  the  American  forces  were  pushed 
by  British  invasion  in  Revolutionary  times,  has 
found  its  last  etape  where  Washington  defended 
his  last  stronghold,  on  the  ultimate  heights  at  the 
extreme  northern  end  of  the  island. 

The  busy  and  impatient  are  hurled  the  length 
of  Manhattan  and  on  to  the  Bronx  through  the 
serpentine  tunnel,  coming  up  twice  for  air  only 
to  observe  the  wreck  of  the  country-side,  the 
levelling  of  high  places,  the  filling  in  of  hollows. 
Factories,  electric  light  plants,  monster  gas  tanks 
blot  out  views  that  once  inspired  poets,  painters, 
and  novelists.  Automobilists  speeding  along  the 
driveway  bordering  the  Hudson  have  a  scarcely 
richer  impression  of  the  touching  reserves  of  this 
last  stand  which  beauty  makes  in  the  upper,  inac¬ 
cessible  reaches  of  the  island. 

Where  the  land  narrows,  with  the  bend  of  the 


INWOOD 


389 


Harlem  River,  above  Manhattanville,  the  succes¬ 
sion  of  promonotories,  each  capped  with  its  fine 
old  country-seat,  bespeaks  a  remoter  time  when, 
behind  their  own  teams  of  blooded  horses,  the  gen¬ 
tlemen  of  Inwood,  Kingsbridge,  and  Washington 
Heights  drove  to  business  over  the  ten  or  twelve 
miles  of  indifferent  roadway  that  lay  between  their 
estates  and  the  heart  of  the  little  city.  Several 
of  the  historic  mansions  which  figured  in  Revo¬ 
lutionary  history  have  recently  been  rescued  and 
preserved  to  future  generations;  others  on  the 
blissful  highroad  to  rack  and  ruin  stand  on  lonely 
forgotten  crags,  overlooking  the  dismal  streets 
below,  graded  in  the  accepted  fashion  and  dark 
as  sunless  ravines. 

Nor  are  remnants  of  vulgar  village  life  wanting 
in  this  region.  The  Harlem  goats,  once  the  sport 
of  comic  weeklies,  have  been  crowded  out;  but  I 
have  seen  at  least  two  cavorting  on  the  slopes  of 
the  Bolton  Road  at  Inwood — their  coarse  hair 
heavily  matted  with  burs,  feeding  on  the  tradi¬ 
tional  tomato  tin,  garnished  with  old  newspaper, 
as  happy  and  care-free  as  though  they  were  not 
the  last  of  their  once  prolific  race. 

Only  the  pedestrian  can  get  the  full  flavour  of 
this  rough,  inaccessible  wooded  country  bordering 
the  convolutions  of  the  old  Spuyten  Duyvil  Creek, 


390  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


a  region  replete  with  suggestion,  readily  recon¬ 
structed  by  the  fertile  imagination,  for  little  has 
happened  to  disturb  its  pristine  state  since  the  first 
white  man,  presumably  Henry  Hudson,  stepped 
ashore  to  barter  with  the  native  Indians  under 
the  famous  Tulip  Tree,  still  standing  and  still 
blossoming,  at  the  base  of  that  wooded  knoll. 

The  Indian  name  of  the  stream  connecting  the 
East  and  North  Rivers  was  Muscoota,  but  from 
earliest  times  the  part  of  the  Harlem  River  nearest 
the  Hudson  was  called  Spuyten  Duyvil  Creek. 
Some  say  the  name  referred  to  a  spring  of  water 
which  “  spouted  ”  from  the  hill  near  the  end  of 
the  island,  and  of  which  mention  is  made  in  sev¬ 
eral  of  the  early  English  grants.  Before  the  con¬ 
struction  of  the  ship  canal,  which  simplified  the 
tangle  of  tributaries  by  a  deep  short-cut  through 
the  mesh,  the  tides  used  to  race  through  the  creek 
with  great  rapidity.  Receding  they  left  a  marshy 
bed  criss-crossed  with  rivulets;  but  when  they  met, 
rushing  simultaneously  up  the  Hudson  and  Har¬ 
lem  Rivers,  the  tide  rips  thus  formed  caused  great 
turbulence  in  the  creek  and  the  water  was  dashed 
into  the  air  to  incredible  heights,  with  an  effect 
similar  to  that  noticed  at  Hell  Gate  before  the 
blasting  out  of  the  big  rocks  in  the  channel.  Racy 
titles  seem  to  have  been  the  fashion  for  these  nat- 


INWOOD 


391 


ural  disturbances,  and  this  may  have  been  the 
“  spouting  ”  or  “  spiking  devil,”  if  that  be  the 
true  significance  of  the  name. 

At  low  tide  there  was  a  natural  ford  through 
the  creek  used  by  the  Indians  and  early  settlers, 
referred  to  in  old  deeds  and  records  as  “  the  wad¬ 
ing  place.”  Before  the  first  King’s  Bridge  was 
built  this  was  freely  used;  the  only  other  means 
of  communication  between  the  island  and  the  main¬ 
land  was  by  ferry.  Frederick  Philipse,  the  Dutch 
millionaire,  one  of  the  backers  of  Captain  Kidd, 
built  the  first  bridge,  in  1693,  and  outraged  the 
farmers  of  Westchester  County  by  charging  them 
toll  for  the  crossing,  until  these,  grown  tired  of 
paying  their  money  into  the  coffers  of  the  manor 
lord  of  Yonkers,  built  the  Free  Bridge  across  the 
foot  of  Two  Hundred  and  Twenty-fifth  Street, 
in  1758;  and  a  boycott  of  King’s  Bridge  soon 
forced  a  remission  of  the  toll. 

These  bridges  facilitated  Washington’s  retreat 
to  White  Plains,  whither  he  withdrew  the  main 
body  of  the  army  after  the  success  of  the  Battle 
of  Harlem  Heights,  leaving  Fort  Washington 
garrisoned  by  a  force  of  a  few  thousand  men,  in 
command  of  General  Magaw.  It  was  well  that  he 
had  not  to  repeat  the  perilous  experience  incident 
to  his  evacuation  of  Brooklyn  after  the  Battle  of 


392  A  LOITERER  IX  NEW  YORK 


Long  Island.  This  had  been  done  by  pressing 
into  service  every  available  craft  that  had  either 
oars  or  sails,  and  was  an  undertaking  fraught  with 
romantic  and  thrilling  incident. 

Once  safely  landed  on  Manhattan  Washington’s 
idea  was  at  once  to  continue  the  retreat  and  to 
place  his  forces  intact  beyond  immediate  danger, 
for  Howe,  with  his  fleet  and  drilled  soldiers,  had 
still  the  situation  in  his  hands,  had  he  taken  the 
prompt  measures  that  were  daily  and  hourly 
anticipated  by  the  patriots.  But  congress  would 
not  consent  to  the  surrender  of  New  York,  and 
while  the  British  commander  dallied  with  his 
opportunities  on  Long  Island,  Washington  was 
forced  to  an  ordeal  of  nerve-racking  inaction  and 
suspense.  lie  established  his  own  headquarters 
in  the  beautiful  colonial  house,  built  by  Roger 
Morris  for  his  bride,  Mary  Philipse,  a  daughter 
of  the  lord  of  the  manor,  who  built  the  King’s 
Bridge. 

This  house  was  then  in  the  first  decade  of  its 
adventurous  history,  for  176.5  has  been  fixed  upon 
as  the  probable  date  of  its  construction.  The  plan 
of  the  house  is  Georgian,  but  of  a  peculiar  English 
type  seldom  seen  in  this  country.  Its  distinguish¬ 
ing  architectural  feature  is  the  deep  octagonal 
drawing  room  projecting  from  the  rear  of  the 


"the  old  tulip  tree:  in  wood” 

AFTER  A  PAINTING  BY  ERNEST  LAWSON  (PAGE  390) 


INWOOD 


393 


broad  entrance  hall,  entered  from  a  pillared  porch, 
baronial  in  character.  Its  was  a  period  of  honest 
construction,  and  though  the  severe  plainness  of 
the  interior  has  been  thought  to  suggest  haste 
in  its  erection,  time  was  taken  to  line  the  outer 
walls  with  English  brick,  and  the  house  was  built 
to  last. 

Roger  Morris  was  a  colonel  in  the  British  Army 
garrisoned  in  New  York,  and  his  town  house  stood 
at  Whitehall  and  Stone  Streets,  its  site  now  cov¬ 
ered  by  the  east  wall  of  the  Custom  House.  This 
then  was  his  luxurious  country-seat,  built  upon 
land  given  to  Mary  Philipse  by  her  wealthy  father, 
as  part  of  her  munificent  wedding  dowry.  Roger 
Morris  and  Mary  Philipse  had  been  married,  in 
1758,  in  the  old  Philipse  manor  house,  at  Yonkers, 
and  the  marriage  settlement  was  a  curious  old- 
fashioned  deed,  entailing  her  estates  upon  her 
unborn  children.  But  this  heritage  was  diverted 
by  the  events  of  the  Revolutionary  War;  Roger 
Morris  and  his  wife  and  all  of  her  family  were 
“  loyalists,”  as  the  favorable  term  goes,  “  royal¬ 
ists,”  the  patriots  called  them,  and  Roger  Morris 
fled  at  the  approach  of  the  American  soldiers, 
while  his  wife  occupied  the  house  until  late  in  the 
month  of  August  of  this  eventful  year,  when, 
finding  it  likely  to  become  a  theatre  of  war,  she 


394  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


left  hastily  and  found  a  refuge  with  the  Tories. 
At  the  elose  of  the  Revolution  her  estates  were 
confiscated  and  she  went  with  her  husband  back 
to  England. 

Roger  Morris  was  an  Englishman  born.  He 
came  to  this  country  as  aide-de-camp  to  General 
Rraddock,  under  whom  Washington  also  served 
in  a  similar  capacity  in  the  French  War.  Much 
has  been  made  of  the  romantic  story  of  the  court¬ 
ship  of  Mary  Philipse  by  these  two  soldiers,  and 
of  Washington’s  unsuccessful  suit  when  he  had 
to  offer  only  the  modest  prospects  of  an  humble 
surveyor;  and  if  this  he  true  it  is  possible  that 
he  felt  a  certain  grim  satisfaction  in  ousting  the 
happy  pair,  and  taking  military  possession  of  their 
nest,  so  favourably  situated  for  its  new  purpose. 
Their  drawing  room  became  his  Council  Chamber, 
lie  slept  in  the  room  directly  over  it  and  the  small 
antechambers,  one  each  side,  were  occupied  by  his 
aides,  of  whom  one  was  Alexander  Hamilton. 

The  house,  with  its  “  one  hundred  and  thirty 
acres  of  arable  pasture  land,  and  five  acres  of  best 
salt  meadow,”  was  described  in  those  days  as  “  sit¬ 
uate  on  the  narrowest  part  of  York  Island.”  and 
commanding  the  most  extensive  view  on  Manhat¬ 
tan,  overlooking  the  city,  ten  miles  distant,  the 
high  hills  on  Staten  Island,  more  than  twenty 


INWOOD 


395 


miles  away;  to  the  left,  Long  Island,  the  Harlem 
River,  Hell  Gate,  and  the  Sound;  and  to  the  right 
the  noble  Hudson,  with  its  palisades  and  pictur¬ 
esque  shipping.  The  Jumel  family,  who  after¬ 
wards  occupied  it,  boasted  that  seven  counties 
could  be  seen  “  from  the  gallery  under  the 
portico.” 

Washington’s  military  occupation  of  the  house 
lasted  only  from  September  16  to  October  21,  but 
it  continued  to  figure  in  the  history  of  the  war, 
and  during  the  British  occupation  of  the  island 
it  was  the  headquarters  off  and  on  for  a  long 
period  of  Lieutenant-General  Knyphausen,  the 
commander  of  the  Hessian  troops.  Its  subsequent 
history  up  to  the  time  when,  in  1901,  the  mansion 
and  what  was  left  of  the  large  estate  were  pur¬ 
chased  by  the  city,  does  not  belong  to  our  present 
story.  Indeed,  it  has  been  so  admirably  immor¬ 
talized  in  a  recent  edition  de  luxe,  written  and 
published  by  its  present  custodian,  Mr.  William 
Henry  Sheldon,  that  the  curious  reader  who  would 
follow  the  vagaries  of  Stephen  Jumel  and  his  spec¬ 
tacular  wife,  Eliza,  or  Betsy  Bowen,  cannot  do 
better  than  read  this  remarkable  book.*  Suffice 
for  us  to  know,  in  passing,  that  Betsy  Bowen,  of 
doubtful  parentage  and  adventurous  history,  hav- 

*  “  The  Jumel  Mansion,”  by  William  Henry  Sheldon.  1917. 


396  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


ing,  in  1804,  tricked  Stephen  Jumel  into  becoming 
her  legal  husband,  urged  him  to  buy  for  her  the  old 
Morris  house,  which  John  Jacob  Astor  was  offer¬ 
ing  for  sale,  in  1810.  It  was  lavishly  refitted  by 
Stephen  Jumel,  who  was  a  man  of  taste,  and  con¬ 
sidered  “  the  most  luxurious  country-seat  in  all 
New  York.” 

Madame  Jumel  spared  no  expense  in  her  efforts 
to  be  recognized  by  New  York  society,  and  failing 
to  get  her  footing  here,  sailed  to  Europe  in  her 
husband’s  own  ship,  the  Eliza,  named  for  herself, 
and  commenced  that  life  in  Paris  of  which  accounts 
are  so  confusing  and  so  little  reliable.  She  re¬ 
mained  Jumel’s  wife  for  twenty-two  years,  until 
his  death  in  1832,  when  Aaron  Burr  fell  a  victim 
to  her  charms,  or  her  money,  and  became  for  a 
brief  space  her  aged  and  troublesome  husband. 
The  ceremony  that  made  her  Madame  Burr,  a 
title  which  she  found  useful  during  her  last  trip 
to  Paris,  in  1853,  took  place  in  the  small  parlour 
to  the  left  of  the  entrance.  Her  life  spanned 
almost  a  century;  born  a  year  before  the  Declara¬ 
tion  of  Independence,  she  died  in  1865,  in  Wash¬ 
ington’s  bedchamber,  looking  very  much  as  she 
does  in  the  full-length  portrait  which  hangs  in 
the  hall  of  the  mansion,  demented,  and  “  powdered 
and  rouged  to  the  end.”  Stephen  Jumel  had 


INWOOD 


397 


been  modestly  interred  in  the  consecrated  ground 
of  the  old  St.  Patrick’s  Cathedral  in  Prince  Street, 
and  just  in  front  of  an  iron  gate,  opening  from 
the  stone  flagging  of  the  Mott  Street  entrance,  is 
the  horizontal  marble  slab,  which  once  bore  the 
inscription  to  his  memory,  and  of  which  now  the 
single  word,  “  Stephen,”  is  barely  decipherable  and 
rapidly  going.  The  slab  rests  on  marble  posts,  in 
the  graceful  style  of  its  epoch,  raised  three  feet 
above  the  damp  old  ground  of  this  forgotten 
cemetery  attached  to  the  Cathedral,  where  had 
been  solemnized  the  hasty  marriage  of  Betsy 
Bowen  and  Stephen  Jumel.  Madame  Jumel,  on 
the  other  hand,  lies  in  a  stately  tomb,  overlooking 
the  Hudson,  in  Trinity  Cemetery. 

The  Jumel  ownership  fixed  the  popular  name 
to  the  house,  which  no  amount  of  restoration  and 
activity  on  the  part  of  the  colonial  societies  in¬ 
terested  can  dislodge ;  and  in  this  there  is  a  certain 
justice,  for  had  not  Stephen  Jumel  and  his  eccen¬ 
tric  wife  rescued  the  property,  already  famous 
through  its  Revolutionary  history,  it  would  doubt¬ 
less  have  continued  the  road-house  that  it  became 
after  it  was  taken  by  the  government.  Washing¬ 
ton,  in  his  journal  under  the  date  of  July  10, 
1790,  refers  to  his  second  visit  to  “  the  house, 
lately  Colonel  Roger  Morris’  but  confiscated  and 


398  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


now  in  possession  of  a  common  farmer.”  So 
that  its  deterioration  began  at  once  in  true  New 
York  fashion,  and  posterity  can  only  be  grateful 
to  its  vain  and  ambitious  chatelaine,  who  preserved 
its  beauty  during  the  best  part  of  a  destructive 
century.  The  stories  invented  by  this  extraordi¬ 
nary  lady,  and  recounted  bv  her  after  she  had  lost 
her  reason,  have  invested  the  mansion  with  an 
aroma  of  romance  and  mystery,  very  fascinating 
to  dwell  upon.  They  stimulate  the  imagination 
and  lend  color  to  the  facts,  themselves  sufficiently 
strange,  so,  though  crushed  to  earth,  may  they 
rise  again  in  all  their  charming  mendacity! 

There  is  nothing  legendary,  however,  in  the 
quite  as  thrilling  story  of  Washington’s  occupa¬ 
tion  of  the  Roger  Morris  house,  and  his  camp 
of  eight  thousand  untrained  soldiers  successfully 
manipulated  through  the  amazing  Battle  of  Har¬ 
lem  Heights.  The  general  importance  of  the 
“  affair  ”  at  Harlem  Heights  is  picturesquely 
coloured  by  its  local  interest.  Coming  as  it  did 
immediately  after  the  calamity  on  Long  Island, 
it  served  as  a  prelude  to  the  brilliant  exploits  of 
the  American  army  at  Trenton  and  Princeton; 
and  being  the  only  contest  within  the  limits  of 
Greater  New  York  that  resulted  in  victory  for 
the  Americans,  it  has  peculiar  charm  for  its  citi- 


INWOOD 


399 


zens.  We  know  by  all  sorts  of  practical  means, 
such  as  the  mass  of  Hessian  buttons  and  military 
relics  dug  up  throughout  the  whole  territory  lying 
north  of  Van  de  Water  Heights,  during  recent 
excavations,  that  the  fighting  was  widespread ; 
and  gazing  at  the  very  ground  on  which  this  battle 
was  fought,  and  tracing  the  outlines  of  the  earth¬ 
works  at  Washington  Heights,  where  our  soldiers 
were  finally  defeated,  in  a  second  engagement 
with  General  Howe’s  superior  forces,  augmented 
by  the  hated  Hessians,  examining  the  military  hut 
reconstructed  from  old  materials,  the  pile  of  shot 
found  at  Fort  Independence  on  the  Kingsbridge 
Heights,  one  can  put  one’s  self  in  live  touch  with 
this  critical  and  tempestous  moment  of  Revolu¬ 
tionary  history. 

Imagination  is  the  better  served  since  nothing 
formal  has  been  done,  beyond  the  almost  too  clean 
restoration  of  the  Dyckman  house,  with  its  flut¬ 
tering  flag,  to  induce  the  reverential  spirit.  If 
the  recent  Rockefeller  purchase  of  Fort  Tryon, 
with  the  fifty-seven  acre  tract,  comprising  the 
Billings,  Hays,  and  Sheafer  estates,  and  consti¬ 
tuting  the  northern  outwork  of  the  defence,  is 
really  to  become  park  land,  the  place  will  lose  its 
fascinating  casual  quality,  which  now  makes  ex¬ 
cursions  to  this  region  of  rare  antiquarian  interest. 


400  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Through  the  grounds  now  occupied  by  Trinity 
Cemetery  was  constructed  one  of  the  southern 
outworks  of  Fort  Washington,  and  this  was  the 
first  portion  to  fall  in  the  assault  led  by  General 
Knyphausen,  the  leader  of  the  Hessian  troops. 
They  are  described  as  advancing  from  Kings- 
bridge  in  two  columns,  wading  across  the  marshy 
land  about  the  Spuyten  Duyvil  Creek,  and  scaling 
the  precipitous  rocky  hill,  now  traversed  by  the 
Bolton  Road.  So  steep  was  the  acclivity  in  places 
that  the  soldiers  had  to  pull  themselves  up  by  aid 
of  the  hushes,  and  loaded  down  with  the  extraor¬ 
dinary  paraphernalia  of  the  German  infantry, 
they  successfully  stormed  the  bluffs  in  the  face 
of  heavy  odds  and  with  heavy  losses. 

There  are  neutral-minded  people  who  can  find 
it  possible  to  admire  the  pure  soldiery  and  disci¬ 
pline  of  the  hired  troops  who  assisted  the  British 
and  the  colonial  “  royalists  ”  in  this  attack  and 
capture.  But  the  rage  of  our  own  people  against 
the  mercenaries  was  of  such  endurance  that  their 
name  became  a  by-word  in  certain  sections,  carried 
no  doubt  into  the  Southern  vernacular  by  the 
Maryland  troops  who  survived  the  contact.  I  can 
remember  my  mother,  in  moments  of  righteous 
wrath,  when  she  always  reverted  to  her  Baltimore 
type,  hurling  the  epithet  as  a  final  expression  of 


INWOOD 


401 


denunciation  and  contempt.  “  That  Hessian !  " 
she  would  say  of  a  local  miscreant,  with  fine  scorn 
and  blazing  eyes,  a  century  and  more  after  the 
word  had  lost  is  specific  significance. 

Washington  Heights  have  become  accessible 
only  since  the  building  of  the  subway.  Before 
that  the  surface  cars  went  no  further  than  Man- 
hattanville,  and  from  there  it  was  an  exhilarating 
tramp  for  the  adventurous  through  the  Hollow 
Way  to  the  Hudson,  along  the  railroad  tracks 
to  Jeffrey’s  Hook,  now  known  as  Fort  Washing¬ 
ton  Point,  the  place  where  Washington  crossed 
to  and  from  Fort  Lee,  directly  opposite  on  the 
palisades. 

From  this  point  one  has  a  choice  of  two  roads, 
the  river  road,  sheltered  on  the  right  by  the  high 
cliffs,  or  the  highway,  known  as  Fort  Washington 
Avenue,  over  the  backbone  of  the  island.  This 
roadway,  in  the  old  days,  led  through  one  private 
estate  after  another  and  still  retains  enough  of 
its  rural  character  to  invite  exploration,  especially 
on  those  cold,  sunny  days  in  early  spring,  or  late 
winter,  when  the  New  York  climate  seems  to 
present  its  most  alluring  character.  The  James 
Gordon  Bennett  estate  occupied  a  part  of  the  land 
upon  which  the  fort  was  situated.  Audubon  Park, 
further  south,  was  famous  as  the  residence  of  the 


402  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


ornithologist,  his  estate,  Minniesland,  lay  above 
One  Hundred  and  Fifty-fifth  Street,  between 
Amsterdam  Avenue  and  the  river,  and  is  best 
commemorated  by  the  handsome  group  of  build¬ 
ings  given  by  Archer  M.  Huntington,  of  which 
the  central  feature  is  the  Hispanic  Museum. 

Some  of  the  mansions  in  the  upper  part  of  the 
old  park  have  been  turned  into  road-houses  where 
one  can  almost  induce  the  illusion  of  European 
charm  in  dining  in  the  open  and  looking  out  over 
the  finest  of  prospects. 

North  of  Inwood  the  greater  part  of  the  land 
belonged  to  the  Dyckman  property,  of  which  the 
only  tangible  vestige  is  the  so-called  Dyckman 
House,  upon  which  one  comes  suddenly  and  unex¬ 
pectedly  after  descending  the  hill  through  the 
rambling  village  of  Inwood,  into  the  gorge  cut  by 
Broadway,  not  far  from  the  twelfth  milestone. 
The  house,  very  much  renovated  and  spruced  up, 
stands  on  high  ground,  from  which  the  street  has 
been  levelled  and  graded,  and  after  years  of  uncer¬ 
tain  existence  rests  in  tolerable  security  as  city 
property.  The  builder  of  the  house,  William 
Dyckman,  wTas  a  grandson  of  the  original  settler, 
who  came  over  from  Westphalia,  in  1666,  and 
built  a  house  on  the  Sherman  Creek,  to  the  north¬ 
west  of  the  present  dwelling,  near  the  Hudson 


Reproduced  by  courtesy  of  the  Hispanic  Society  of  America 


'‘THE  DUCHESS  OF  ALBA/'  BY  GOYA 
HISPANIC  MUSEUM  (PAGE  402  ) 


INWOOD 


403 


River.  The  Dyckmans  became  staunch  patriots, 
in  recognition  of  which  William  Dyckman  was 
exiled  for  seven  years  during  the  British  occupa¬ 
tion,  and  his  first  house  burned. 

Of  the  very  few  houses  still  standing  in  New 
York  built  before  1800,  the  Dyckman  House  is 
one  of  the  oldest  and  quaintest.  Its  proportions 
are  unpretentious,  for  it  was  a  simple  farmhouse; 
but  the  two  Dyckman  daughters,  who  presented  it 
to  the  city,  in  1916,  have  spared  no  trouble  or 
expense  in  outfitting  it  with  family  heirlooms  and 
Revolutionary  trophies  found  in  the  neighbour¬ 
hood,  and  in  making  the  house  as  homelike  and 
intimate  as  a  public  museum  can  hope  to  be. 

The  Van  Cortlandt  Mansion  does  the  same  edu¬ 
cational  work  on  a  larger  scale,  presenting,  by 
means  of  period  furniture,  costumes,  kitchen 
utensils,  and  the  like,  a  faithful  reproduction  of 
the  simple,  comfortable  living  of  our  forefathers. 
The  house,  with  its  terraced  garden  leading  down 
to  the  lake  front,  has  the  unique  advantage  of 
preserving  all  of  its  setting,  of  which  the  Dyck¬ 
man  House,  as  well  as  Claremont,  the  Jumel 
Mansion,  and  Hamilton  Grange,  have  been  ruth¬ 
lessly  shorn.  There  is  an  interesting  relationship 
through  several  of  these  houses,  of  which  the  par¬ 
ent  may  be  said  to  be  the  manor  house  at  Yonkers. 


404  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Philipse  not  only  gave  the  land  upon  which  the 
Roger  Morris  house  was  built,  he  owned  the  estate 
upon  which  the  Van  Cortlandt  house  stands, 
having  sold  it  to  Jacobus  Van  Cortlandt,  who  mar¬ 
ried  his  step-daughter,  Eva.  The  house  built  by 
their  son  Frederick  is  reputed  to  be  modelled 
after  the  style  of  the  Philipse  homestead.  In 
1884  the  entire  Van  Cortlandt  estate,  w’ith  other 
property,  amounting  to  over  a  thousand  acres,  was 
acquired  by  the  city  and  formed  into  Van  Cort¬ 
landt  Park,  stretching  east  of  Broadway  and  up 
to  the  city  line. 


XX 


BROOKLYN 

The  Sculpture  of  Frederick  MacMonnies 

Some  intelligent  person  has  discovered  that 
“  Good  times  are  from  within.”  Taking  this 
statement  with  its  largest  suggestion  of  philo¬ 
sophic  truth,  it  goes  without  saying  that  the  source 
upon  whose  fertility  ultimate  dependence  rests, 
in  one’s  quest  for  pleasure,  must  be  furnished  and 
replenished  constantly  if  it  is  to  be  drawn  upon 
with  any  hope  of  adequate  response. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  Brooklyn  herself  puts 
her  case  badly.  The  town  has  practically  never 
been  laid  out.  It  started  out  a  few  years  later 
than  New  York  with  an  half  dozen  or  more  little 
settlements;  a  main  street  developed  from  the 
straggling  path  that  led  up  the  hill  from  the  early 
ferry;  little  by  little  these  settlements  became 
united,  until,  after  nearly  two  centuries  of  exist¬ 
ence,  they  achieved  in  their  combined  strength  the 
dignity  of  a  city. 

These  little  villages  had  been  the  unconscious 

405 


406  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


outgrowth  of  the  farms  that  lined  the  East  River 
shore,  with  the  central  village  of  Breuckelyn ,  lying 
about  a  mile  above  the  ferry.  None  of  them  had 
definite  form.  Each  had  crooked  streets  and 
lanes,  created  merely  as  convenience  demanded 
communication  between  the  burghers’  houses  and 
the  narrow  lane,  now  Fulton  Street,  that  con¬ 
stituted  the  main  artery  of  simple  traffic. 

When  Brooklyn  was  granted  her  charter  as  a 
city,  in  1834,  it  is  amusing  to  read  that  the  pre¬ 
occupation  of  Mr.  Henry  E.  Pierrepont,  who  wras 
“  appointed  to  lay  out  a  new  city,”  was  to  estab¬ 
lish  a  beautiful  cemetery  to  rival  Mount  Auburn, 
which  he  had  seen  and  admired  during  a  recent 
visit  to  Boston.  The  wooded  heights  of  Gowanus 
appealed  to  him  as  presenting  the  most  favourable 
features  for  his  scheme;  and  how  hungry  was  the 
population  for  something  beautiful  we  may  know 
when  we  read  that  the  cemetery  became,  in  a  sense, 
its  first  public  park,  and  that  the  young  folks  of 
the  early  Victorian  era  promenaded  with  then- 
lovers  amongst  the  graves  of  the  dead,  over  the 
superb  hills  of  Greenwood,  overlooking  the  bay 
and  the  Sound. 

Prospect  Park  came  into  existence  some  forty 
years  later,  and  after  that  something  wonderful 
happened  to  Brooklyn.  There  was  a  great  period 


BROOKLYN 


407 


of  renaissance,  a  strong  civic  movement  headed 
by  men  of  character  and  remarkable  taste.  These 
men  constituted  the  Park  Commission,  and  they 
gave  to  the  city  what  is  to-day  its  finest  asset — 
the  sculpture  of  Frederick  MacMonnies. 

The  few  grains  of  wheat  that  Brooklyn 
yields  to  the  sympathetic  search  of  the  loiterer 
are  of  a  quality  whose  superiority  is  inversely 
proportionate  to  its  quantity.  To  arrive  at  that 
good  time  that  lies  within,  and  by  grace  of  which 
one  may  have  wonderful  emotions  in  these  ugly 
crowded  streets  and  along  the  sordid  water  front, 
it  is  well  to  saturate  one’s  self  with  the  literature 
of  the  subject  before  taking  the  plunge. 

There  is  no  more  romantic  reading  in  fiction 
than  the  story  of  the  Battle  of  Long  Island 
enacted  along  the  heights  of  the  present  city,  from 
its  lead  in  from  the  distant  Gravesend  Bay,  across 
the  plains  of  Flatbush,  over  the  hills  of  Gowanus, 
through  Prospect  Park,  to  its  final  vital  moment 
of  retreat  from  the  locality  of  the  Fulton  Ferry. 

The  story  of  the  Prison  Ship  Martyrs,  glori¬ 
ously  commemorated  by  that  magnificent  monu¬ 
ment  on  Fort  Greene,  is  one  of  the  most  moving, 
tremendous  tales  of  heroic  bravery  that  the  world 
has  known.  Stanford  White’s  great  column  rises 
literally  superior  to  the  sordid  environment  with 


408  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


a  sublime  architectural  message  that  grips  one  in 
majestic  vindication  of  the  wrongs  and  sufferings 
of  these  noble  Revolutionary  victims  upon  whose 
principles  the  foundation  of  our  republic  rests. 

Ernest  Poole  has  made  vivid  the  story  of  the 
harbour,  the  Heights,  the  docks.  The  charming 
old  residence  section  built  along  the  bluff  over¬ 
looking  the  harbour  is  still  comparatively  intact, 
while  the  aroma  of  some  of  Brooklyn’s  great 
intellects  lingers  in  the  Plymouth  Church,  where 
Beecher  held  the  multitude  for  religion,  by  the 
simple  power  of  his  oratory,  during  forty  years; 
in  some  of  the  quainter  and  more  dilapidated  of 
the  small  frame  dwellings,  built  no  doubt,  in  part, 
by  Walt  Whitman,  in  the  early  days  when  he  aided 
his  father  in  master-carpentry. 

While  the  richest  treasure  of  the  city  is  Mac- 
Monnies’  group  of  sculpture  at  Prospect  Park, 
there  are  also  Proctor’s  “  Panthers  ”  at  another 
entrance,  and  Shrady's  noble  equestrian  statue  of 
Washington  at  Valley  Forge,  isolated  on  the 
Williamsburg  Plaza,  but  making  another  point 
for  pilgrimage.  And  thus  one  seems  to  see, 
through  the  dull  ramifications  of  a  straggling 
endless  suburban  city,  a  sort  of  skeleton,  with  the 
old  Borough  Hall  in  the  centre,  that  might  be 
held  in  the  case  of  some  wisely  directed  heaven- 


“WASHINGTON  AT  VALLEY  FORGE/'  BY  HENRY  MERWIN  SHRADY 
WILLIAMSBURG  PLAZA,  BROOKLYN  (PAGE  408) 


BROOKLYN 


409 


sent  calamity  that  would  raze  block  after  block 
of  undesirability  and  wipe  out  whole  sections, 
leaving  for  future  splendour  a  nucleus  of  such 
features  as  might  be  marked  for  passover. 

The  fact  of  MacMonnies’  birth  on  the  Brooklyn 
Heights  must  be  understood  as  the  last  reason  for 
his  being  chosen  to  make  for  his  native  city  that 
important  group  of  sculpture  that  marks  the 
formal  entrance  to  Prospect  Park.  It  was  merely 
by  a  fortuitous  chain  of  circumstances  and  the 
settled  evidence  of  his  entire  capability  that  the 
interesting  commission,  including  the  quadriga, 
the  two  groups  for  the  arch,  the  four  eagles  on 
the  standards  of  the  plaza,  marking  the  vestibule 
to  the  park,  the  equestrian  statue  of  General 
Slocum  on  the  Eastern  Parkway,  and  the  stand¬ 
ing  figure  of  General  Woodward,  was  awarded 
by  the  Park  Commission  to  Frederick  MacMon¬ 
nies  at  the  outset  of  his  brilliant  career.  To  this 
was  added  later  the  portrait  statue  of  James 
S.  T.  Stranahan,  within  the  entrance  to  the  park, 
the  “  Horse  Tamers,”  two  companion  groups  of 
rearing  horses,  at  one  of  the  southern  exits,  and 
the  little  Duck  Boy  Fountain,  in  the  Vale  of 
Cachemere. 

MacMonnies  was  born  before  the  close  of  the 


410  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Civil  War.  His  birthplace  was  one  of  the  agree¬ 
able  old  houses  near  the  water  front;  his  boyhood 
was  spent  in  one  of  those  beautiful  country  places, 
now  included  in  the  borough  and  planted  thick 
with  stupid  hives  of  a  swarming  population. 
What  incentive  there  was  in  the  New  York  and 
Brooklyn  of  the  pre-Centennial  period  to  suggest 
to  a  boy  an  artistic  career  it  is  impossible  to  imag¬ 
ine,  and  the  sculptor  himself  has  amusingly  de¬ 
scribed  the  city  of  his  early  recollection  as  in  the 
first  enthusiastic  grip  of  the  brown-stone  blight, 
where  the  ambition  of  every  house  and  every 
street  was  to  duplicate  its  neighbour;  a  state  of 
intellectual  torpidity  with  which  its  citizens  were 
well  satisfied.  It  must  be  said  that  the  country 
contributed  to  this  complacence,  and  that  brown- 
stone  fronts  were  considered  the  quintessence  of 
elegance;  they  were  liberally  copied  by  other 
cities,  the  rage  for  this  unpleasant  substance  ex¬ 
tending  as  far  as  the  Pacific  coast,  where,  in 
San  Francisco,  some  early  houses  still  remain 
to  bear  witness  to  its  potent  influence. 

Inside  the  houses  were  as  uninspiring  as  with¬ 
out.  Each  one  had  the  same  engravings,  the  same 
chromos,  the  same  Rogers’  groups. 

The  Metropolitan  Museum  was  little  more  than 
a  struggling  idea,  and  for  sculpture  presented  a 


BROOKLYN 


411 


nucleus  consisting  of  one  colossal  bust  of  William 
Cullen  Bryant  and  a  few  minor  atrocities.  There 
were  no  casts  from  the  antique,  and  the  Cesnola 
Collection,  with  its  rich  revelation  of  beauty,  was 
still  unknown. 

The  aridity  of  the  streets,  now  lined  with  hand¬ 
some  shops  displaying  every  form  of  objet  d’art, 
is  inconceivable,  and  MacMonnies  speaks  feelingly 
of  frequent  trips  down  to  Washington  Square  to 
feast  his  famished  eyes  on  the  little  brass-lettered 
sign  affixed  to  the  doorway  of  the  Benedict,  and 
the  only  ornamental  object  of  its  kind  applied  to 
the  architecture  of  our  city.  This  had  been  de¬ 
signed  by  Stanford  White  and  made  by  Louis 
Saint  Gaudens.  It  is  still  there,  its  beauty 
enhanced  by  constant  polishing,  a  charming  little 
relic — a  first  tiny  wedge  of  good  taste. 

As  a  youth,  MacMonnies  went  to  Saint  Gaudens 
as  “  studio  boy,”  working  as  apprentice  pupil  at 
the  time  of  that  sculptor’s  greatest  productivity; 
growing  up  there  under  favoured  circumstances, 
for  the  studio  was  the  resort  of  the  best  architects, 
sculptors,  and  painters  of  the  country.  In  Saint 
Gaudens’  atelier  MacMonnies  first  came  to  the 
notice  of  Stanford  White,  then  a  young  man  of 
twenty-one  years.  MacMonnies  thought  him  “  as 
old  as  the  hills,”  and  was  amused  to  find  in  after 


412  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


years,  when  they  had  become  friends,  that  there 
was  but  five  years  difference  in  their  ages. 

Saint  Gaudens  had  already  laid  the  foundation 
of  the  young  sculptor’s  taste,  and  under  him  Mac- 
Monnies  developed  extraordinary  manual  skill. 
His  was  a  fine  influence,  everything  he  did  had 
taste  and  quality  besides  a  fund  of  poetic  feeling. 
Stanford  White  took  to  MacMonnies  from  the 
first  and  saw  his  possibilities  with  that  unerring 
instinct  for  selection  that  made  him  so  valuable 
a  force  in  matters  of  art.  In  those  early  days  he 
turned  over  to  the  young  student  some  of  the 
ornamental  work  on  the  Villard  house,  that  great 
palace  of  brownstone  designed  by  White,  at  Fifty- 
first  and  Madison  Avenue.  It  is  still  a  beautiful 
house,  but  in  those  days  it  stood  out  as  a  pioneer 
amongst  fine  things,  and  it  created  a  new  standard 
of  beauty. 

Then  MacMonnies  went  to  Europe  (in  1884), 
and  studied  with  Falguiere;  and,  working  the 
Beaux  Arts,  he  twice  won  the  priv  d’atelier,  the 
highest  prize  open  to  foreigners.  His  first  statue, 
a  Diana,  won  him  an  honourable  mention  at  the 
Salon  of  1889.  and  then,  through  Stanford  White, 
came  his  first  commission,  the  three  adoring  angels 
for  the  Church  of  the  Paulist  Fathers,  surmount¬ 
ing  the  high  altar  designed  by  the  architect.  Small 


BROOKLYN 


413 


commissions  followed  during  the  next  few  years, 
when  MacMonnies  made,  through  White,  the 
“  Pan  of  Rohallion,”  the  “  Boy  with  Heron,”  for 
Mr.  Choate,  the  spandrels  for  the  Bowery  Bank, 
the  angels  for  the  Washington  Arch,  and  the 
West  Point  “  Victory.” 

By  this  time  the  young  sculptor  began  to  get 
his  footing,  and  his  first  important  public  com¬ 
mission,  the  statue  of  Nathan  Hale,  made  in 
Paris,  in  1890,  fixed  his  reputation  for  all  time. 
After  this  success  he  was  awarded,  at  the  sugges¬ 
tion  of  Saint  Gaudens,  the  famous  Columbia 
Fountain,  for  the  Chicago  Exposition,  at  which 
so  many  of  our  present  sculptors  made  their 
debuts.  The  fountain,  whose  chief  requisite  was 
to  be  “  style,”  MacMonnies  conceived  as  an  im¬ 
posing  composition  with  twenty-seven  colossal 
figures,  surmounted  by  “  Columbia,”  enthroned 
upon  the  central  mass  of  a  great  white  ship. 

It  was  then,  when  the  sculptor  was  not  more 
than  twenty-seven  years  of  age,  that  an  extraor¬ 
dinary  thing  happened  in  Brooklyn.  Prospect 
Park,  which  had  been  laid  out  about  1780  as  a 
place  of  recreation  and  amusement  for  its  citi¬ 
zens,  became  the  centre  of  civic  ambition,  and  a 
group  of  broad-minded  and  remarkable  men,  con¬ 
stituting  the  Park  Commission,  handed  over  to 


414  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Frederick  MacMonnies  the  inclusive  scheme  of 
sculpture  that  was  to  make  it  notable  among  the 
parks  of  the  world.  These  men  were  Frank 
Squier,  Colonel  Woodward,  Mr.  de  Silva,  Elijah 
Kennedy,  General  Woodward,  and  Augustus 
Healy.  Convinced  of  his  ability  and  confident  of 
the  outcome,  these  gentlemen  gave  MacMonnies 
perfect  liberty,  untrammelled  and  unhampered  by 
suggestion  or  criticism. 

The  Army  and  Navy  triumphal  arch,  which 
presented  the  base  of  operations,  was  already 
standing,  having  been  designed  some  years  pre¬ 
vious  by  John  H.  Duncan,  architect.  Its  only 
sculptures  were  the  two  equestrian  reliefs  of 
Lincoln  and  Grant  on  the  piers  within  the  arch¬ 
way.  These  stiff,  archaic  panels  by  Thomas 
Eakins  and  William  Rudolf  O’Donovan  bear  the 
dates  1893-04.  Mr.  Eakins  modelled  the  horses 
and  O’Donovan  made  the  riders,  and  there  is  a 
quaint  story  of  the  two  artists  posing  for  one  an¬ 
other  and  of  their  exhaustive  search  for  the  right 
horses,  which  ended  in  A.  J.  Cassatt  lending  his 
celebrated  mount.  “  Clinker,”  for  Grant’s  horse, 
while  “  Billy,”  upon  whom  sits,  or  rather  is  em¬ 
bedded,  Lincoln,  was  a  western  steed.  The  work 
went  forward  in  Mr.  Eakins’  improvised  studio 
at  Avondale,  below  Philadelphia;  there  he  made 


PORTRAIT  STATUE  OF  JAMES  S.  T.  STRANAHAN 
BY  FREDERICK  MACMONNIES  (PAGE  419) 


BROOKLYN 


415 


many  studies  and  fine  casts  for  his  part  of  the 
reliefs,  rather  pluming  himself  upon  making  the 
models  with  one  bucket  of  clay ;  working  con¬ 
trary  to  all  accepted  methods,  in  sections,  and 
casting  the  parts  and  putting  them  together 
afterwards. 

Works  of  art  they  are  not,  though  there  is  in 
the  modelling  of  the  horses  that  sincerity  which 
characterizes  everything  that  Eakins  did  in  paint¬ 
ing,  and  as  the  sculpture  of  a  painter  of  very 
remarkable  accomplishment  they  possess  much 
antiquarian  interest.  We  know  that  Eakins  was 
deeply  scientific  by  nature,  and  that  he  had  made 
before  he  tackled  this  problem  (1884)  those  won¬ 
derful  anatomic  horses,  owned  by  the  schools  of 
the  Pennsylvania  Academy,  and  also  that  he 
assisted  Meybridge  with  his  experiments  in  instan¬ 
taneous  photography,  making  exhaustive  records 
of  equine  motion.  And  all  of  this  definite  and 
accurate  information  concerning  the  anatomy  of 
the  horse  comes  out  in  these  reliefs.  But  Eakins 
went  into  the  matter  so  thoroughly  and  conscien¬ 
tiously  that  he  lost  sight  of  the  bigger  problem; 
and  as  for  O’Donovan,  he  seems  to  have  moved  in 
sublime  ignorance  of  the  fundamental  facts  of 
sculpture  and  beyond  the  warmth  of  the  sacred 
fire  of  genius.  His  men  are  droll  caricatures  of 


41G  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


the  heroes  they  are  supposed  to  represent.  Lin¬ 
coln  sits  stiffly,  his  right  arm  extended  downward, 
with  the  hand  holding  a  quaint  old  top  hat,  as  if 
to  catch  the  stones  with  which  the  bad  boys  of  the 
neigbourhood  used  to  keep  it  constantly  filled. 

The  arch  was  badly  designed,  and  when  it  was 
decided  to  add  the  quadriga  to  the  top  and  the 
reliefs  to  the  piers  a  change  of  administration 
enabled  the  Park  Commission  to  engage  Stanford 
White  as  architect  of  the  proposed  features.  He 
built  out  the  bases  for  the  groups  and  tried  to 
make  something  of  it,  but  the  arch  is  a  failure, 
architecturally,  despite  MacMonnies’  splendid 
work.  Had  he  been  older  and  more  experienced 
he  no  doubt  would  have  refused  the  commission, 
realizing  its  difficulties.  But  he  was  under  thirty, 
and  carried  away  by  the  opportunity  to  do  big 
things.  Youth  and  exuberance  conquered  judg¬ 
ment,  and  MacMonnies  threw  himself  into  the 
designing  and  modelling  of  the  three  enormous 
bronze  groups — the  quadriga  surmounting  the 
arch,  “  The  Army  ”  and  “  The  Navy,”  decorating 
the  piers  facing  the  entrance  to  the  park. 

In  this  work  MacMonnies  showed  the  abundant 
results  of  his  study  and  experience  abroad. 
“Nothing  finer  than  ‘The  Army,’”  says  Taft, 
“  has  been  done  since  Rude  carved  '  Le  Depart 


BROOKLYN 


417 


Yet,  as  he  goes  on  to  say,  there  is  no  tangible 
point  of  resemblance.  They  have  the  same  im¬ 
pulse,  the  same  effect  of  having  been  thrown  off 
by  an  irresistible  force  as  from  an  inexhaustible 
fountain  of  energy.  They  have  abundance  of 
invention,  genius  for  arrangement  in  which  the 
lines  and  contours  seem  to  flow  of  themselves  to 
the  proper  balance,  dexterity  of  surface  modelling, 
and  a  rich  sense  of  beauty  and  strength. 

The  panels  are  treated  as  reliefs,  though  the 
figures  are  largely  in  the  round,  and  the  two  sub¬ 
jects,  while  following  the  same  effective  massing 
of  light  and  shade  and  general  weight  and  de¬ 
sign  present  contrasting  emotions.  “  The  Army  ” 
MacMonnies  has  said  he  conceived  as  an  explo¬ 
sion — “  a  mass  hurled  against  a  stone  wall  and 
which,  bursting  in  all  directions,  was  petrified  as 
it  flew.”  This  effect  is  carried  by  the  agitated 
contour,  bristling  with  bayonets  carried  by  the 
soldiers  in  active  combat,  dominated  by  the  figure 
of  the  officer  with  uplifted  sword,  whose  fallen 
horse  gives  bulk  to  the  lower  portion  of  the  group. 
The  whole  warlike  message  is  emphasized  by  the 
trumpeting  figure  of  Bellona,  on  a  great  winged 
steed  which  fills  the  upper  part  of  the  composition, 
adding  immensely  to  the  colour  and  variety  of  the 
bronze. 


418  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


In  “The  Navy”  MacMonnies  pictures  the  re¬ 
verse  side  of  war,  the  quiet  heroism  wherein  life 
is  laid  down  for  country  with  none  of  the  spec¬ 
tacular  accompaniment  of  active  battle.  The 
moment  is  one  of  dramatic  intensity  augmented 
by  its  simple  reserve,  its  passive  acceptance  of 
doom.  The  men  are  standing  close  together  on 
the  deck  of  a  sinking  ship,  awaiting  their  fate 
with  unflinching  devotion  to  duty. 

In  the  apotheosis  of  America,  who,  with  battle 
flag  and  draperies  blown  by  the  wind,  stands  erect 
in  her  chariot  drawn  by  four  slender  horses  and 
heralded  by  two  winged  Victories,  which  makes 
the  subject  of  the  great  quadriga  that  surmounts 
the  arch,  there  is  no  equivocal  sentiment.  Through¬ 
out  the  sculpture  on  the  arch  one  feels  with  full 
force  the  fundamental  elements  of  war — war 
backed  by  a  glorious  cause;  held  by  staunch  men 
and  true;  won  through  courage,  devotion,  hero¬ 
ism,  sacrifice;  favoured  by  deities;  exulted  in 
by  gods. 

In  the  spacious  setting,  with  its  two  ornamental 
pavilions,  its  four  fluted  columns,  surmounted  each 
by  a  large  bronze  globe  and  eagle,  we  have  White’s 
design — the  eagles  modelled  by  MacMonnies. 

To  the  immediate  left  of  the  entrance,  standing 
as  a  wrelcoming  host,  is  MacMonnies’  bronze  statue 


BROOKLYN 


419 


of  Brooklyn’s  “  first  citizen,”  James  S.  T.  Strana- 
han,  during  whose  long  administration  as  presi¬ 
dent  of  the  Park  Commission  Prospect  Park  was 
created,  and  to  whose  suggestion  is  due  the  system 
of  boulevards  and  the  Ocean  and  Eastern  Park¬ 
ways.  MacMonnies  describes  him  in  words  and 
presents  him  in  bronze  as  a  delightful  person — 
polished,  courteous,  broad-minded,  simple,  unsel¬ 
fish — the  very  acme  of  all  that  a  citizen  should  be. 
In  the  summer  of  1891  his  fellow  citizens  erected 
“  during  his  lifetime  and  unveiled  in  his  presence  ” 
(so  runs  the  legend  on  the  pedestal)  this  unusual 
tribute  to  his  worth.  The  sculptor  himself  drew 
the  veil  from  his  work  on  this  impressive  occasion. 

In  this  statue  of  a  charming  old  gentleman, 
sympathetically  and  simply  done,  presenting  him 
as  a  figure  true  to  its  time,  one  feels  the  perfection 
of  the  ideals  for  which  those  earlier  American 
sculptors  heroically  struggled.  What  Kirke  Brown 
and  Ward  hoped  for  the  future  of  American 
sculpture,  MacMonnies  has  taken  and  enveloped 
with  his  deeper  sense  of  beauty  and  richer  fund 
of  expression.  The  Stranahan  statue  epitomizes 
the  movement  fathered  by  these  pioneers  in  their 
stand  against  the  neo-classic,  and  as  such  its  im¬ 
portance  as  a  veritable  contribution  to  the  sum 
total  of  knowledge  in  the  art  of  sculpture  cannot 


420  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


be  overestimated.  Of  it  Taft  says,  “  Nothing 
truer  has  been  done  in  our  day.” 

The  personality  of  the  man  is  the  first  and  last 
impression,  and  every  phase  of  the  enthusiastic 
modelling  has  been  so  treated  as  to  contribute  to 
that  profound  characterization,  which  is  its  most 
striking  attribute.  The  problem  of  the  modern 
costume  has  been  faced  squarely,  even  to  the  detail 
of  the  quaint  silk  hat,  held  in  the  right  bare  hand. 
The  left  hand  is  gloved  and  holds  the  other  glove 
and  stick,  while  over  the  arm  is  thrown  an  over¬ 
coat.  The  pose  has  the  simplicity  of  greatness, 
the  costume  is  unconventional  without  the  untidi¬ 
ness  suggested  in  Ward’s  Beecher,  before  Borough 
Hall. 

MacMonnies  felt  delight  in  the  work,  making 
many  studies  of  the  model  and  bearing  them  away 
to  France,  where  the  statue  was  completed  and 
cast,  which  partly  accounts  for  the  interesting 
patine  the  bronze  has  gained  through  exposure. 
After  it  was  finished  and  unveiled,  Stranahan  was 
so  pleased  with  his  effigy  that  he  and  his  wife  used 
to  drive  down  the  plaza  and  he  would  be  photo¬ 
graphed  standing  beside  the  statue — they  thought 
it  so  like. 

Within  the  park,  bearing  to  the  left  from  the 
plaza  entrance  and  following  a  devious  and  con- 


BROOKLYN 


421 


fusing  route  through  rose  gardens  and  other 
pretty  features  of  this  graceful  enclosure,  a  path 
leads  unexpectedly  down  through  dense  foliage  into 
what  is  known  as  the  Vale  of  Cachemere.  Here 
amidst  laurel  and  rhododendron  bushes  lies,  partly 
concealed,  a  tiny  lily  pond,  and  in  the  centre  of 
this  lily  pond,  its  border  strengthened  and  en¬ 
riched  by  a  stone  parapet,  designed  by  Stanford 
White,  one  comes  upon  MacMonnies’  radiant 
Duck  Boy  Fountain,  a  diminutive  ruddy  bronze 
figure  of  a  baby  holding  a  struggling  mother  duck, 
from  whose  mouth,  opened  in  distressed  cries, 
emits  the  sparkling  stream  of  water.  The  baby 
is  very  little  and  joyous,  its  head  is  turned  to  one 
side,  its  small  arms  barely  able  to  hold  the  captive 
bird.  He  stands  with  one  foot  on  the  back  of  a 
turtle,  the  heel  of  the  other  lightly  touching  the 
ground.  Four  tiny  ducklings  stand,  as  it  were, 
on  tiptoe,  flapping  their  embryonic  wings  and 
screaming  in  vain  effort  to  reach  their  mother. 
These,  flattened  against  the  yellow  marble  pedes¬ 
tal,  are  united  by  festoons  of  water  lilies.  At 
some  distance  from  the  boy,  four  turtles  emerge 
from  the  surface  and  throw  jets  of  water  upon 
the  group.  The  whole  effect  is  very  playful  and 
charming.  The  rich  colour  of  the  bronze  is  the 
accidental  patine  of  time,  one  of  the  most  fasci- 


422  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


nating  qualities  of  bronze.  In  winter  this  figure 
is  taken  in  and  the  pond  is  used  by  the  children  for 
skating. 

Those  stupendous  groups  known  as  the  “  Horse 
Tamers  ”  flank  an  exit  at  the  opposite  side  of  the 
park,  through  which  lies  the  favourite  route  to 
Coney  Island.  These  fantastic  groups  express 
the  exuberance  of  the  sculptor’s  most  prolific 
period,  when  his  genius  bubbled  forth  almost  un¬ 
controllably,  and  he  was  ready  for  every  difficulty. 
For  sheer  manual  dexterity  the  things  are  amaz¬ 
ing;  for  decorative  value  their  force  is  overwhelm¬ 
ing;  yet  these  rearing  chargers  with  their  slender 
riders  seem  to  have  come  as  easily  from  the 
sculptor’s  brain  as  the  little  “  Piping  Pan  of 
Rohallion  ”  or  the  charming  fountains  of  the 
Knickerbocker  Hotel. 

These,  with  the  equestrian  statue  of  General 
Slocum,  the  hero  of  Bull  Run,  and  the  standing 
figure  of  MacMonnies’  friend  and  patron,  General 
Woodward,  constitute  the  sculptor’s  extraordinary* 
contribution  to  Brooklyn.  “  During  the  ten  years 
of  his  greatest  activity,”  says  Taft,  “  he  created 
more  good  sculpture  than  any  contemporary — 
more  than  most  do  in  a  lifetime.”  With  the  ex¬ 
ception  of  the  Nathan  Hale  before  the  City  Hall 
in  New  York,  the  flower  of  MacMonnies’  work 


THE  HORSE  TAMER,  BY  FREDERICK  MACMONNIES 
PROSPECT  PARK,  BROOKLYN  (PAGE  422) 


BROOKLYN 


423 


during  the  first  decade  of  his  productivity  is 
in  Brooklyn.  All  of  it  was  shown  in  Paris  at  the 
different  salons,  gaining  the  sculptor,  as  a  final 
recompense,  the  Legion  d’Honneur  in  1896.  It 
is  interesting  to  note  that  now,  in  his  maturity, 
MacMonnies  is  making  for  Princeton  a  battle 
monument  embodying  the  ideas  of  the  Army  and 
Navy  Arch  reliefs,  in  which  one  sees  the  rich  de¬ 
velopment  of  his  life  and  work,  in  a  group  sur¬ 
mounted  by  the  figure  of  Washington,  which  has 
all  the  youthful  enthusiasm,  to  which  is  added  a 
riper  grasp  of  the  essentials  of  form,  balance,  and 
composition. 

The  firm  of  McKim,  Mead  and  White  gave 
Brooklyn  its  beautiful  museum  building,  a  con¬ 
sistent  edifice  devoted  to  art,  natural  history,  and 
ethnology,  standing  on  Eastern  Parkway  not  far 
from  the  Plaza.  The  outside  sculptures  are  by 
Herbert  Adams,  Daniel  Chester  French,  Henry 
Augustus  Lukemen,  Kenyon  Cox,  Attilio  Picci- 
rilli,  Karl  Bitter,  George  T.  Brewster,  Edward 
C.  Potter,  Janet  Scudder,  Charles  Keck,  Edmund 
T.  Quinn,  John  Gelert,  and  Carl  A.  Heber. 

The  outgrowth  of  the  Brooklyn  Institute  of 
Arts  and  Sciences,  the  museum  is  a  composite  of 
the  three  departments  mentioned  and  covers  a 
wide  field  of  activity.  The  art  section  contains 


424  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


several  features,  notably  the  series  of  the  “  Life 
of  Christ,”  by  James  J.  J.  Tissot,  presented,  in 
1900,  by  the  citizens  of  Brooklyn;  the  collections 
of  water  colours  by  Winslow  Homer  and  John 
Singer  Sargent;  the  interesting  panels  painted 
for  the  Church  of  the  Paulist  Fathers  by  John 
La  Farge;  and  Boldini’s  impressive  portrait  of 
James  McNeill  Whistler. 


XXI 


BROOKLYN’S  BATTLE  MARKS 

The  Battle  of  Long  Island  has  left  notable 
traces  throughout  the  city  of  Brooklyn,  envelop¬ 
ing  its  surface  mediocrity  with  peculiar  romance 
and  charm.  One  should  look  at  a  map  to  get  the 
features  of  the  island  well  in  mind.  The  hill 
range  which  forms  the  backbone  of  Long  Island, 
and  upon  whose  slopes  Walt  Whitman  was  born, 
terminates  on  the  west  in  Brooklyn  Heights,  and 
forms  the  general  line  followed  in  the  course  of 
that  momentous  first  avowed  battle  of  the  Revolu¬ 
tion. 

We  are  to  reconstruct  for  better  understanding 
the  series  of  small  towns  and  villages  that  lined 
the  coast,  looking  towards  New  York,  and  lying 
upon  the  East  River  and  the  harbour.  Since  1642 
a  public  ferry  has  been  established  between  Man¬ 
hattan  and  Long  Island,  whose  landing-places 
were  at  Peck’s  Slip,  in  New  York,  and  the  foot 
of  the  present  Fulton  Street,  in  Brooklyn.  These 
old  villages,  whose  names  in  more  or  less  cor- 

425 


426  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


rupted  form  are  still  preserved,  were  practically 
contemporaneous,  the  land  having  been  parcelled 
out  by  the  early  governors  to  the  Dutch  settlers 
and  patroons. 

The  first  settlement  appears  to  have  been  at 
Gowanus,  to  the  south  of  the  ferry;  Van  T wilier 
appropriated  a  grant  at  Roode  Hoek,  so  called 
from  its  rich  red  soil — the  name  still  preserved, 
not  only  in  the  nomenclature  of  the  coast  line, 
but  in  a  small  street,  called  Red  Hook  Lane,  not 
far  from  Borough  Hall.  Amongst  the  earliest 
settlers  were  the  Walloons,  who  came  to  America 
in  numbers  early  in  the  seventeenth  century. 
These  were  Huguenots,  who  had  sought  refuge  in 
Holland  from  religious  persecution,  and  they 
founded  Waal-Bogt,  or  the  Bay  of  the  Foreigners 
(corrupted  to  read  Wallabout),  a  district  lying 
on  the  East  River,  above  that  deep  indentation 
where  is  situated  the  Navy  Yard.  Gravesend 
was  originally  an  English  settlement,  granted  by 
Kieft  to  Lady  Deborah  Moody,  but  the  English 
strain  was  soon  lost,  and  the  name  s’Gravenxande 
(the  Count’s  Beach)  was  taken  from  the  Dutch 
town  on  the  river  Maas.  Ferry  Village  sprung 
up  about  the  neighbourhood  of  the  ferry,  while 
Breuckclen  received  its  charter  about  1643,  and 
was  a  small  central  hamlet  along  the  straggling 


BROOKLYN’S  BATTLE  MARKS  427 


country  road,  a  mile  above  the  ferry.  About 
twelve  years  previous  to  the  Revolution  this  nar¬ 
row  lane  became  the  first  post  road  through  Long 
Island. 

To  cover  the  territory  involved  in  the  Battle  of 
Long  Island  one  should  grasp  the  essential  land¬ 
marks  extending  between  Gravesend  Bay,  way 
down  below  the  Narrows,  near  Coney  Island, 
where  Howe  landed  with  his  force  of  20,000  men, 
and  Fort  Greene  Park,  then  Fort  Putnam,  where 
Washington  had  concentrated  9,000  soldiers,  con¬ 
stituting  one-half  of  the  American  army.  This 
high  ground  still  commands  an  impressive  view, 
but  in  those  days,  before  the  city  was  built  up,  it 
not  only  overlooked  the  city  of  New  York  and  the 
East  River,  it  commanded  an  extensive  range  of 
Long  Island  and  the  four  ancient  roads  taken  by 
the  British  in  their  advance  from  Gravesend. 

These  four  roads  led  away  from  the  bay  by 
way  of  Bedford,  Flatbush,  Jamaica,  and  the  shore 
line  to  Gowanus,  whence  an  inland  road  cut 
across  country  to  Brooklyn  village.  Washington, 
Putnam,  Sullivan,  and  Stirling  were  the  heroes 
of  the  battle,  their  names,  simply,  being  inscribed 
on  a  tablet  at  the  intersection  of  Fulton  Street  and 
Flatbush  Avenue.  Washington  distributed  his 
scanty  store  of  men  as  best  he  could,  fortifying 


428  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


three  of  the  four  means  of  approach ;  while  Howe, 
quickly  recognizing  the  strategic  importance  of 
the  unguarded  roundabout  road  by  way  of 
Jamaica,  took  that  himself,  sending  two  High¬ 
land  regiments,  under  General  Grant,  by  the 
shore  road  and  a  column  of  Hessians,  under  Gen¬ 
eral  von  Heister,  by  the  middle  pass. 

To  follow  the  course  of  the  battle  one  must 
follow  the  heights.  Stirling  formed  a  line  all  the 
way  from  Battle  Hill,  in  Greenwood  Cemetery, 
to  Gowanus  Bay;  Sullivan  held  the  roads  through 
the  dense  woods  by  way  of  Bedford  and  Flatbush. 
Both  came  to  grief  and  were  outnumbered  and 
captured  after  a  brave  fight.  A  day  of  disaster 
to  the  Americans  closed  with  an  exhibition  of  de¬ 
voted  bravery  on  the  part  of  the  Maryland  Regi¬ 
ment,  which  held  back  the  British  until  their  com¬ 
panions  could  reach  safety,  and,  as  the  phrase  is, 
“  saved  the  American  Army.” 

We  read  of  Washington  standing  on  Lookout 
Hill,  in  Prospect  Park,  watching  the  advance  of 
the  British  against  the  inadequate  forces  under 
General  Stirling;  of  his  amazement  and  emotion 
when,  instead  of  surrendering,  Stirling  turned 
against  the  adversary  to  give  battle.  It  was  at 
this  sight  that  Washington  is  said  to  have  wrung 
his  hands  and  cried:  “Good  God!  What  brave 


BROOKLYN’S  BATTLE  MARKS  429 


fellows  I  must  this  day  lose.”  The  sentence  is 
inscribed  on  the  pedestal  of  the  Maryland  Monu¬ 
ment,  designed  by  White,  and  erected  in  honour 
of  Maryland’s  Four  Hundred. 

The  retreat  after  the  battle  carries  the  reader 
across  the  heights  into  the  old  part  of  the  town 
along  the  bluff  overlooking  the  river,  and  down  to 
the  water’s  edge,  a  region  in  which  all  landmarks 
have  been  obliterated;  yet  the  conformation  of  the 
ground  is  the  same,  and  one  can  picture  the  terri¬ 
ble  panic  and  confusion  at  the  site  of  the  present 
ferry,  where  the  troops  were  gathered  to  make 
their  escape  in  the  motley  assemblage  of  river 
craft  which  Washington  in  secret  had  prepared  for 
them.  The  council  which  decided  the  retreat  was 
held  in  the  old  Pierrepont  House,  at  the  head  of 
the  bluffs,  at  what  is  now  No.  1  Pierrepont  Place, 
a  handsome  brown-stone  residence  still  in  the  pos¬ 
session  of  that  family.  This  house  occupies  the 
site  of  the  original  colonial  dwelling. 

According  to  the  plan,  none  of  the  soldiers  and 
few  of  the  officers  knew  what  was  in  the  wind 
when,  after  dark,  the  latter  were  ordered  to  get 
their  regiments  under  arms  for  a  night  attack 
upon  the  enemy.  When  the  troops  had  fallen  into 
line,  instead  of  marching  towards  the  British  camp, 
to  their  surprise  they  found  themselves  descending 


430  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


the  steep  slopes  that  led  down  to  the  river,  and 
when  it  was  understood  that  they  were  retreating, 
panic  the  most  violent  seized  them.  The  soldiers 
crowded  into  an  indistinguishable  mass  of  officers 
and  privates,  all  obsessed  by  the  one  idea  of  get¬ 
ting  into  the  boats,  which  included  every  sort 
of  river  craft,  both  sail  and  row  boats,  upon 
which  Washington  could  lay  hands.  From  many 
sources  we  learn  that  such  disorder  prevailed  that 
the  soldiers  in  the  rear  actually  climbed  upon  the 
heads  and  shoulders  of  their  forward  comrades 
and  walked  over  them  to  the  front,  leaping  pele- 
mcle  into  the  boats,  in  spite  of  the  threats  and 
entreaties  of  their  officers,  and  crowding  these  to 
such  an  extent  that  several  boats  were  nearly 
swamped.  When  driven  at  the  point  of  the  bayo¬ 
net  from  some  of  the  flotilla,  the  frightened  sol¬ 
diers  poured  instantly  into  others,  from  which 
neither  threats  nor  blows  could  finally  dislodge 
them. 

Washington’s  anxiety  for  the  safe  retreat  of 
his  army,  so  gravely  jeopardized  by  this  unseemly 
panic,  wras  fast  exhausting  his  patience,  and  his 
language  is  described  as  growing  “  as  vehement 
as  his  labours  had  been  gigantic.” 

“  At  last  his  wrath  at  the  insubordination  and 
perversity  of  the  men  leaped  beyond  the  bounds  of 


PORTRAIT  OF  JAMES  MCNEILL  WHISTLER,  BY  GIOVANNI  BOLDINI 
BROOKLYN  MUSEUM  (PAGE  424) 


BROOKLYN’S  BATTLE  MARKS  431 


his  habitual  prudence,  and,  seizing  a  huge  stone, 
which  probably  few  other  men  in  the  army  could 
even  have  lifted  from  the  ground,  he  raised  it 
aloft  in  both  hands,  and  shouted:  ‘If  every  man 
in  that  boat  does  not  instantly  leave  it,  I  will  sink 
it  to  hell.’  ”  * 

The  voice  of  the  general  is  said  to  have  been  so 
impressive  and  his  gesture  so  threatening  that  the 
boats  were  instantly  vacated  and  the  insubordina¬ 
tion  quelled.  The  retreat  occupied  the  night; 
Washington  was  the  last  man  to  leave  the  island, 
and  the  watchers  on  the  bluffs  saw  his  boat  for  a 
few  moments  in  midstream  in  the  growing  dawn 
before  the  thick  fog  that  put  the  final  touch  of 
security  to  the  proceedings  closed  down  over  the 
British  camp  and  enveloped  the  river  in  impene¬ 
trable  mystery. 

In  a  section  of  Brooklyn,  rather  off  the  beaten 
track,  above  the  old  Huguenot  settlement  of  Wall- 
about,  and  on  beyond  the  Brooklyn  Navy  Yard, 
lies  Fort  Greene  Park,  a  pretty  patch  of  rescued 
verdure  rising  to  a  noble  eminence,  upon  which 
stands  the  awesome  monument  to  the  Prison  Ship 
Martyrs  of  the  Revolution.  This  monument,  cer¬ 
tainly  one  of  the  grandest  of  its  type,  was  amongst 

*  “  Historic  and  Antiquarian  Scenes  in  Brooklyn.”  T.  W.  Field. 
P.  92. 


432  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


the  last  things  that  engaged  the  art  of  Stanford 
White.  He  never  saw  it  in  the  life,  its  corner 
stone  having  been  laid  a  year  after  his  death,  but 
he  realized  it  in  all  its  poetic  majesty  and  austere 
aloofness  from  its  crazy  environment  as  perhaps 
his  most  monumental  and  distinguished  achieve¬ 
ment. 

The  monument  takes  the  simplest  form.  It 
consists  of  a  great  fluted  shaft  of  magnificent 
granite  rising  straight  and  with  pure  lines  into 
the  air;  upon  the  top  a  square  capital,  ornamented 
with  walls  of  Troy,  upon  which  rests  a  bronze  urn. 
This  column,  standing  upon  the  highest  point  of 
Fort  Greene,  is  planted  in  the  centre  of  a  square 
granolithic  plaza,  the  ends  marked  by  short  shafts 
ornamented  each  by  an  eagle  resting  against  the 
base.  The  approach  is  from  the  direction  of  the 
sea,  and  consists  of  three  flights  of  wide  granite 
steps  with  intermediate  platforms,  on  the  second 
of  which  is  the  descent  into  the  crypt,  concealed 
under  the  steps;  and  therein  are  contained  the 
bones  of  the  eleven  thousand  prison  ship  martyrs 
of  baleful  history. 

The  defeats  of  the  patriots  at  the  Battle  of 
Long  Island  and  the  subsequent  capture  of  Fort 
Washington  gave  the  British  between  four  and 
five  thousand  prisoners,  and  this  number  was  con- 


BROOKLYN’S  BATTLE  MARKS  433 


stantly  increased  by  the  arrest  of  citizens  suspected 
of  complicity  with  the  so-called  “  rebellion.”  The 
prisons  in  the  city  of  New  York  being  entirely 
inadequate  to  the  situation,  some  transports  that 
had  originally  been  used  to  bring  cattle  and  other 
war  supplies  out  from  England  were  pressed  into 
the  abominable  service.  In  all  there  were  seven¬ 
teen  of  these  hateful  prison  ships,  of  which  two 
at  a  time  were  in  service  at  Wallabout  for  the 
reception  of  prisoners. 

The  conduct  of.  the  prisons  by  the  British  offi¬ 
cials  makes  desperate  reading.  Our  men  were 
thrust  aboard  these  pestilential  hulks  in  incredible 
numbers;  and  here,  in  loathsome  floating  dun¬ 
geons,  denied  air  and  light,  scantily  fed  on  poor, 
putrid,  often  uncooked  food;  quartered  with  the 
basest  criminals,  the  sick  with  the  healthy,  were 
subjected  daily  to  intolerable  insult  and  indignity. 
They  died  by  thousands,  of  scourges  and  starva¬ 
tion,  lying  huddled  together  at  night,  the  dead 
with  the  living,  until  the  rude  morning  cry, 
“Rebels,  bring  out  your  dead!”  ended  their  hor¬ 
rid  slumbers  and  brought  them  to  the  miseries 
of  another  dreadful  day.  One  of  the  prison  ships 
was  burned,  said  to  have  been  fired  by  the  inmates 
who  preferred  death  to  their  long-drawn  suffer¬ 
ings  ;  but  the  human  cargo  was  merely  transferred 


434  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


to  another  ship,  increasing  the  misfortune  of 
both. 

The  most  infamous  of  these  ships  was  the 
Jersey,  or  the  Hell,  as  she  was  called  from  the 
number  of  prisoners  confined  between  her  decks, 
often  as  many  as  a  thousand  at  a  time;  and  we 
read,  in  the  memoirs  of  Silas  Talbot,  that  of  the 
twenty  thousand  Americans  who  died  on  the 
prison  ships  throughout  the  Revolution  11,644 
found  that  relief  upon  the  Jersey  alone. 

These  men  were  constantly  offered  rations,  and 
freedom  in  the  open  air,  if  they  would  but  enlist 
in  the  service  of  George  III — not  necessarily  to 
fight  directly  against  their  own  country,  but  for 
service  in  foreign  wars,  thereby  relieving  soldiers 
who  could  then  he  added  to  the  British  forces  in 
America.  Their  fidelity  to  their  newly  forming 
country  is  without  parallel  in  the  history  of  the 
world,  and  their  grim  staunchness  forms  the  very 
keystone  of  our  republic.  These  devoted  patriots, 
taken  from  every  one  of  the  thirteen  original 
states,  numbered  more  than  were  killed  in  all  the 
battles  both  by  sea  and  land  in  the  long  and  des¬ 
perate  struggle  for  freedom. 

At  the  close  of  the  war  the  survivors  were  re¬ 
leased  and  the  old  Jersey  sank  in  the  mud  of 
Wallabout  Channel,  at  a  spot  now  covered  by  the 


BROOKLYN’S  BATTLE  MARKS  435 


west  end  of  Cob  Dock.  For  many  years  the  bones 
of  the  martyrs  lay  bleaching  on  the  banks  of  the 
Wallabout,  where  the  bodies  had  been  rudely 
buried  in  shallow  pits  by  the  British.  The  whole 
shore  from  Rennies  Point  to  Mr.  Remsen’s  farm 
was  a  place  of  graves ;  many  prisoners  were  buried 
in  a  ravine  of  the  hill,  and  “  it  was  no  uncommon 
thing  to  see  five  or  six  dead  bodies  brought  on 
shore  in  a  single  morning,”  writes  J.  Johnson, 
Esq.,  of  Brooklyn,  “  when  a  small  excavation 
would  be  dug  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  the  bodies 
cast  in,  and  a  man  with  a  shovel  would  cover  them 
by  shovelling  sand  down  the  hill  upon  them.” 
More  than  half  the  dead  bodies  on  the  other  side 
of  the  Remsen  mill  pond  were  washed  out  by  the 
waves  at  high  tide  during  northeast  winds.  “  The 
bones  of  the  dead  lay  exposed  along  the  beach, 
drying  and  bleaching  in  the  sun  and  whitening 
the  shore.” 

This  distressing  state  of  affairs  became  a  chronic 
topic  of  complaint  to  congress;  but  while  every 
one  agreed  that  “  something  should  be  done,”  the 
only  practical  thing  that  was  accomplished  was 
through  the  activity  of  John  Jackson,  a  veteran 
of  the  Revolution,  who  owned  a  farm  adjoining 
the  spot  where  the  Jersey  disappeared  from  view. 
While  others  talked,  he  collected  the  pathetic  re- 


436  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


mains  of  the  soldiers  with  whom  he  had  fought  and 
suffered,  and  when  he  had  several  hogsheads  of 
bones  stored  on  his  farm  he  made  an  offer  to  Tam¬ 
many  to  give  the  land  for  a  monument,  if  that 
society  would  undertake  its  erection. 

Tammany  accepted  the  charge,  set  about  col¬ 
lecting  the  balance  of  the  skeletons  and,  in  1808, 
buried  them  with  imposing  ceremonies  on  the 
Jackson  farm  in  a  temporary  wooden  tomb.  This 
became  so  dilapidated  that,  in  1873,  the  Park 
Commission  prepared  a  permanent  and  imperish¬ 
able  vault  on  Fort  Greene,  overlooking  the  scene 
of  suffering.  The  body  of  John  Jackson,  which 
had  been  interred  in  the  old  wooden  structure,  was 
transferred  to  the  new,  and  rests  with  the  remains 
of  those  whose  plight  he  had  been  the  first  to  miti¬ 
gate.  Later  the  cause  was  espoused  by  the  Society" 
of  Old  Brooklynites,  whose  members  secured  the 
signatures  of  30,000  citizens  of  New  York  and 
Brooklyn  to  a  petition  asking  congress  for  an  ap¬ 
propriation  to  build  the  present  monument. 


XXII 


RANDOM  DECORATIONS 

Not  to  appreciate  the  thing  at  hand  is  the  order 
of  our  civilization.  We  rush  madly  about  on 
busy  errands,  absorbed  in  the  commonplace,  until 
quite  exhausted,  and  then — until  now  it  has  been 
the  custom — hie  us  to  Europe  to  take,  in  great 
gulps,  all  the  aesthetics  that  can  be  crammed  into 
one  short  summer,  on  the  theory  that  such  things 
are  the  inherent  and  peculiar  dower  of  the  old 
country,  and  that  while  America  is  an  excellent 
place  for  dollars  one  must  not  trust  its  art. 

But  now  that  we  are  to  be  turned  in  upon  our¬ 
selves  for  higher  development,  it  behooves  us  to 
take  stock  of  the  art  resources  of  the  country,  to 
study  and  recognize  the  efforts  of  the  earlier  build¬ 
ers  of  our  cities — the  architects,  sculptors,  and 
painters,  whose  lives  were  spent  in  the  considera¬ 
tion  of  beauty  in  its  relation  to  human  life. 

About  the  decorations  of  the  public  buildings 
of  New  York  an  almost  hostile  indifference  pre¬ 
vails;  when  the  subject  does  come  into  discussion, 

437 


438  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


current  writers  take  perverse  pleasure  in  holding 
up  to  ridicule  such  attempts  as  are  made  to  embel¬ 
lish  the  city — to  give  it  some  other  than  a  purely 
commercial  character.  Of  destructive  criticism 
there  is  an  abundance;  of  intelligent  appreciation 
very  little.  That  a  building  or  a  tower  is  the  high¬ 
est  in  the  history  of  the  world ;  that  a  bridge  is  the 
longest,  a  railway  terminal  the  largest,  or  an  hotel 
the  most  expensive,  is  the  kind  of  information 
that  with  us  finds  ready  credence;  even  a  statue 
can  become  famous  in  this  land  of  superlatives  if 
only  it  can  be  said  that  it  is  “  the  greatest  colossus 
in  the  civilized  world,”  and  that  the  pedestal  rests 
securely  upon  a  foundation  which  is  “  a  monolith 
of  concrete  reputed  to  be  the  largest  artificial 
single  stone  in  existence.” 

These  highly  uninteresting  and  unimportant 
facts  are  freely  disseminated  and  become  common 
gossip;  everybody  knows  them.  But  who,  aside 
from  the  cognoscenti,  knows  or  cares  that  Kirke 
Brown’s  Washington,  in  Union  Square,  ranks 
amongst  the  few  really  great  equestrian  statues  of 
the  world,  and  should  be  revered  by  all  good 
Americans,  not  only  for  the  monumental  charac¬ 
ter  which  it  immortalizes,  but  as  the  work  of  one 
of  the  earliest  American-born  sculptors,  and  the 
first  to  conceive  an  American  school? 


DETAIL  OF  "EARTH''  PANEL  IN  THE  DEY  STREET  FAQADE  OF  THE 
WESTERN  UNION  BUILDING.  PAUL  MANSHIP,  SCULPTOR  (PAGE  439) 


RANDOM  DECORATIONS 


439 


How  many  of  the  throng  that  presses  daily 
before  the  Stock  Exchange  stop  to  bestow  a  pass¬ 
ing  glance  upon  its  handsome  pediment,  or  turn 
to  do  homage  to  Ward’s  great  masterpiece  upon 
the  steps  of  the  Sub-Treasury?  The  Woolworth 
Building  is  famous  for  its  height;  who  ever  con¬ 
siders  the  beautiful  detail  of  its  lacy  tower?  One 
who  stops  in  the  Hall  of  Records  to  admire  the 
rich  stone  mosaic  of  the  entrance  lobby,  the  work 
of  William  de  Leftwich  Dodge,  or  upon  busy  Dey 
Street  to  view  the  panels  of  the  four  elements, 
made  by  Paul  Manship,  on  the  new  building  of 
the  American  Telegraph  and  Telephone  Com¬ 
pany,  does  so  at  his  own  risk,  and  is  looked  upon 
almost  with  suspicion  by  the  preoccupied  public, 
scurrying  along  in  quest  of  the  chinking  coin. 

Yet  how  handsome  are  these  things!  One  quite 
longs  to  stem  the  tide,  to  take  the  passers-by  gently 
by  the  hand  and  deflect  them  from  their  frenzied 
course;  for  within  the  monster  edifice  on  Dey 
Street  is  a  frieze  of  putti  in  Paul  Manship’s  most 
delightful  manner,  while  imbedded  in  the  marble 
floor,  within  the  Broadway  entrance,  is  a  circular 
device  in  bronze — a  sort  of  seal  of  the  company — 
designed  by  the  same  clever  artist.  The  “  Genius 
of  Telegraphy,”  only  very  lately  conveyed  to  the 
pinnacle  of  the  building,  is  by  Evelyn  Beatrice 


440  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Longman — a  strong  and  stirring  figure  sym¬ 
bolizing  the  mysterious  force  behind  the  gigantic 
operations  of  the  service. 

At  the  risk,  indeed  the  certainty,  of  being  con¬ 
sidered  a  hopeless  “  nut,”  I  penetrated  the  interior 
of  one  of  the  great  downtown  banks  one  day  in 
search  of  certain  decorative  spandrels  to  which  a 
fellow  artist  had  directed  me.  I  encountered, 
coupled  with  utmost  kindness  and  attentive¬ 
ness,  a  staggering  vagueness,  until  I  was  finally 
passed  along  to  the  treasurer  of  the  company, 
who  received  me  and  my  curious  tale  with  even 
more  tenderness  and  consideration,  looking  at  me 
with  tired  grey  eyes  and  with  a  visible  effort  dis¬ 
lodging  his  brain  from  really  important  matters. 
“And  what  are  spandrels?”  quoth  he,  when  I 
had  finished,  with  whimsical  simplicity. 

The  eagerness  to  help  in  what  most  officials  con¬ 
nected  with  the  various  hotels,  court-houses,  thea¬ 
tres,  banks,  and  public  buildings  containing  sculp¬ 
ture  or  mural  painting  evidently  consider  a  most 
unnatural  curiosity  concerning  objects  which  to 
themselves  are  as  so  much  masonry  and  wall¬ 
paper,  is  truly  pathetic.  It  is  like  opening  the 
eyes  of  the  blind  to  call  their  attention  to  what 
stands  before  them,  while  the  information  given 
out  in  answer  to  questions  is  often  alarming.  I 


RANDOM  DECORATIONS 


441 


have  been  told,  for  instance,  that  some  of  the 
windows  in  the  Church  of  the  Ascension  were  by 
Saint  Gaudens!  When  I  asked  at  Saint  Luke’s 
Hospital  for  the  author  of  the  beautiful  window 
in  the  chapel,  which  I  afterwards  verified  as  the 
work  of  Henry  Holiday,  no  one  visible  in  the 
institution  had  the  faintest  idea,  nor  was  able  to 
lay  hands  on  any  data  concerning  it.  When  I 
made  inquiries  in  another  church,  currently,  but 
erroneously,  reported  to  contain  windows  by 
Burne-Jones,  the  young  curate  that  was  finally 
persuaded  to  see  me — in  this  case  there  was  no 
eagerness — seemed  positively  proud  of  his  igno¬ 
rance  of  matters  that  could  only  be  interesting  to 
a  builder,  and  with  a  super cilious  lift  of  an  eccle¬ 
siastic  eyebrow  seemed  to  insinuate :  “  Who  are 
the  Jones’?  With  Hendrick  Brevoort  buried  in 
our  vestibule,  what  know  we  of  such  vulgarians?  ” 
While  not  all  of  the  best  decorations  and  sculp¬ 
ture  done  by  American  artists  for  America  are 
concentrated  in  New  York,  the  city,  especially  if 
one  stretches  a  point  to  include  the  two  court¬ 
houses  of  Jersey  City  and  Newark,  which  are 
elaborately  decorated,  furnishes  an  interesting 
field  for  the  study  of  what  the  movement  has  ac¬ 
complished  in  this  country  within  the  last  quarter 
of  a  century. 


442  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


We  have  accepted  the  Centennial  Exhibition, 
of  1876,  as  the  birthday  of  decoration  in  America 
— the  Columbian  Exposition,  of  1893,  as  its 
official  coming  of  age.  This  “  coming-out  party  ” 
was  presided  over  by  a  number  of  distinguished 
architects,  each  of  which  introduced,  as  it  were, 
his  own  particular  debutantes.  George  B. 
Post  brought  forward  Blashfield,  Weir,  Reid, 
Simmons,  Beckwith,  Reinhardt,  Shirlaw,  and  Cox 
— all  men  of  more  or  less  distinguished  accomplish¬ 
ment  in  other  fields  of  painting;  and  these  were 
the  decorators  of  the  eight  small  domes  of  his 
Palace  of  the  Liberal  Arts.  Richard  M.  Hunt 
discovered  the  great  natural  ability  of  William 
de  Leftwich  Dodge,  who  as  a  mere  youth,  fresh 
from  the  Paris  schools,  had  proven  his  fluency  in 
the  painting  of  the  famous  panorama  of  the  Chi¬ 
cago  fire,  and  for  the  architect  he  painted  the  enor¬ 
mous  dome  of  the  Administration  Building. 

Some  of  these  painters — notably  Dodge,  Reid, 
Simmons,  Cox.  and  Blashfield — received  through 
the  experience  gained  in  the  exposition  and  their 
attendant  success  a  permanent  bent  for  decoration, 
for  which  immediately  following  the  close  of  the 
World’s  Fair  there  was  a  great  demand.  The 
effect  of  the  ephemeral  work  at  Chicago  was 
deepened  by  the  success  of  the  two  great  libraries 


RANDOM  DECORATIONS 


443 


of  Boston  and  Washington,  decorated  at  about  this 
time,  employing  almost  every  mural  painter  of  dis¬ 
tinction  of  native  birth  and  bringing  to  this  coun¬ 
try  the  work  of  the  greatest  of  French  decorators, 
Puvis  de  Chavannes. 

Paris  had  already  set  the  admirable  example  of 
securing  for  its  public  edifices  a  record  of  what 
contemporary  French  painters  could  do  in  the 
field  of  decoration,  and  most  of  our  artists,  trained 
either  under  these  or  with  them,  came  back  filled 
with  a  desire  to  express  for  America  what  their 
French  contemporaries  had  expressed  for  France 
— to  establish  with  some  degree  of  permanence 
the  record  of  national  achievement  in  the  same 
direction. 

Perhaps  the  supply  created  the  demand.  Cer¬ 
tainly  the  demand  reached  the  supply,  and  Hunt 
and  Post,  in  their  subsequent  architectural  ven¬ 
tures,  utilized  the  genius  at  hand  with  delightful 
enthusiasm.  The  first  private  residence  to  be  dec¬ 
orated  after  the  exposition  was  that  of  Collis  P. 
Huntington,  at  Fifth  Avenue  and  Fifty-seventh 
Street,  built  by  George  B.  Post  and  decorated  by 
Blashfield,  Francis  Lathrop,  Mowbray,  and  Ved- 
der.  Mr.  Post  secured  much  admirable  decora¬ 
tion  for  the  Cornelius  Vanderbilt  house,  across 
the  way,  including  Saint  Gaudens’  handsome 


444  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


mantelpiece;  and  imported  the  wonderful  Baudry 
ceiling,  afterwards  presented  by  Mr.  Vanderbilt 
to  the  Century  Theatre  and  installed  in  the  foyer, 
with  accessories  painted  by  James  Wall  Finn. 
This  ceiling  panel,  by  the  distinguished  decorator 
of  the  foyer  of  the  Paris  Opera  House,  is  one  of 
the  chief  mural  treasures  of  New  York. 

Through  the  younger  Hunt,  Blashfield  made 
“  The  Sword  Dance,”  a  lunette  for  the  Gothic 
supper  room  of  William  K.  Vanderbilt,  and  two 
panels — “  Fortitude  ”  and  “Vigilance” — for  each 
side  of  the  chimnevpiece;  and  later,  for  Arnold 
Brunner,  he  made  the  exquisite  decorations  for  the 
residence  of  Adolph  Lewisohn,  in  Fifty-seventh 
Street,  all  of  which  have  been  removed  and  in¬ 
stalled  in  Mr.  Lewisohn’s  new  house,  below  Mr. 
Frick’s,  on  the  Avenue.  The  ceiling  panel,  rep¬ 
resenting  “  The  Music  of  Antiquity,”  is  placed  in 
the  music  room,  and  another  panel,  “  Florentine 
Dance,”  is  in  the  great  main  hall. 

Simmons’  splendid  “  Justice,”  attended  by  “  The 
Rights  of  Man  ”  and  the  “  Fates,”  for  the  Crimi¬ 
nal  Courts  Building,  was  one  of  the  first  mural 
paintings  to  be  placed  in  a  public  edifice  in  New 
York.  It  was  done  in  1895,  directly  after  the 
success  of  the  decorations  of  the  World’s  Fair, 
and  in  the  full  tide  of  enthusiastic  production 


“the  music  of  antiquity/'  ceiling  decoration  in  residence  of 

MR.  ADOLPH  LEWISOHN,  BY  EDWIN  HOWLAND  BLASHFIELD  (PAGE  444) 


RANDOM  DECORATIONS 


445 


which  marks  this  artist’s  finest  period.  The  Wal¬ 
dorf-Astoria  followed,  and  again  the  Appellate 
Court,  an  example  of  overabundant  enthusiasm. 
Of  it  Mr.  Blashfield  has  said,  charitably:  “We 
tried  so  hard  to  give  full  measure  that  I  fear  we 
overdid  it.” 

The  Appellate  Court  proved,  amongst  other 
things,  Mr.  Mowbray’s  distinguished  gifts  in  dec¬ 
oration  and  brought  him  the  opportunity  of  the 
University  Club,  and  subsequently,  for  the  same 
architects,  the  private  library  of  J.  Pierpont 
Morgan,  in  East  Thirty-sixth  Street,  whose  quiet 
and  beautiful  interior  is  greatly  enriched  by  the 
vaulted  ceiling,  with  decorative  paintings  by  this 
artist.  These,  with  the  mosaic  panelling  of  the 
side  walls,  the  pavimento  of  rare  and  costly  mar¬ 
bles,  present  an  ensemble  reminiscent  of  the  old 
world.  With  every  resource  at  his  command,  the 
elder  Morgan  withdrew  from  his  deposit  at  the 
South  Kensington  Museum  two  fifteenth  century 
chairs  and  a  bronze  bust  of  Pescari,  assigned  to 
Benvenuto  Cellini,  which  form  the  all-sufficient 
furnishings  of  the  loggia.  The  ceiling  of  the  stock 
room  is  a  splendid  example  of  Italian  Renais¬ 
sance  from  the  Palazzo  Aldobrandini,  at  Venice. 

As  the  movement  for  decoration  gained  in  popu¬ 
larity,  hotels,  theatres,  restaurants,  and  concert 


446  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


halls  became  objects  of  the  painters’  skill.  Many 
of  the  most  interesting  of  these,  such  as  Blum’s 
panel  for  Mendelssohn  Hall,  Dewing’s  ceiling  for 
the  cafe  of  the  Hotel  Imperial,  Dodge’s  frieze  for 
the  Cafe  Martin,  have  been  lost  sight  of  in  the 
alterations  or  destruction  of  these  buildings. 

Of  the  many  decorated  theatres,  the  New 
Amsterdam  is  famous  for  its  proscenium  arch, 
designed  by  Robert  Blum  and  carried  out  by  A. 
B.  Wenzel.  Blum  died  before  the  actual  work 
was  commenced.  The  subject,  “  The  Drama,” 
is  represented  by  a  central  figure  of  Lyric  Poetry, 
flanked  on  the  left  by  Tradition  and  on  the  right 
by  Truth.  The  other  principal  characters  are  a 
Jester,  Chivalry,  and  a  King,  whose  crown  has 
been  taken  away  by  Death.  George  Gray  Bar¬ 
nard  and  Hinton  Perry  made  the  sculpture  for 
the  theatre. 

William  de  Leftwich  Dodge  is  best  represented 
in  the  seven  panels  and  colour  scheme  of  the  Em¬ 
pire  Theatre,  designed  by  Carrere  and  Hastings, 
one  of  the  best  decorated  theatres  in  New  York, 
and  especially  interesting  for  the  treatment  of  the 
ceiling,  which  follows  in  conception  the  famous  ceil¬ 
ings  of  Tiepolo  and  Paul  Baudry,  the  two  masters 
of  foreshortening  in  architectural  composition. 

The  essential  spirit  of  true  decoration,  as  de- 


RANDOM  DECORATIONS 


447 


duced  from  a  study  of  the  great  mural  painters 
of  the  past,  provides  that  walls  should  be  so 
treated  as  not  to  lose  their  sense  of  surface.  In 
other  words,  the  subjects  painted  should  be  seen 
to  lie  flat  on  the  walls,  like  tapestry,  and  not  in 
the  round,  with  distance  and  aerial  perspective, 
as  in  easel  pictures.  Tiepolo,  the  great  Venetian 
painter  of  ceilings,  found  that  large  ceilings  or 
domes  with  sufficient  elevation  could  be  effectively 
treated  as  actual  openings  in  the  roof,  and  painted 
many  extraordinary  rooms  where  the  intention  of 
the  ceiling  was  to  deceive  the  eye,  to  produce  the 
effect  of  a  continuation  of  the  architecture  of  the 
room  and  to  show  the  sky  above. 

The  ceiling  of  the  Empire  Theatre,  like  those 
of  the  Italian  prototypes,  represents  a  balustrade 
which  appears  to  surround  an  opening  in  the  roof ; 
and  over  this  balustrade  figures  lean,  looking  down 
into  the  theatre,  while  across  the  blue  sky,  beyond, 
floats  a  symbolic  figure.  The  illusion  from  all 
sides  of  looking  up  through  the  balustrade  is 
created  by  making  all  the  lines  of  architecture 
converge  to  one  vanishing  point,  so  that  nowhere 
is  there  an  effect  of  the  structure  falling  over. 
The  Baudry  ceiling  in  the  Century  Theatre  deals 
with  the  same  problem,  and  Frieseke  also  tried  it 
in  his  ceiling  for  Wanamaker’s  Auditorium. 


448  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


The  charm  of  mural  painting  in  general  does 
not  depend  on  brush  technique,  nor  upon  fidelity 
in  details,  nor  upon  a  literary  subject.  Designed 
to  be  seen  from  great  distance,  composition,  con¬ 
struction,  and  colour  are  the  vital  considerations, 
and  it  is  most  effective  in  the  big  and  simple  ren¬ 
derings  of  thought  to  be  conveyed.  From  the 
distance  seen,  all  small  things  disappear.  The  face 
cannot  be  relied  upon  to  express  feelings  or  emo¬ 
tions,  which  carry  only  through  the  gesture  of  the 
whole  figure,  and  it  is  much  more  important  that 
the  head  or  hand  should  be  in  its  right  place  than 
that  finger  nails  should  be  well  drawn. 

In  the  zeal  for  decoration  which  followed  the 
success  of  the  Columbian  Exposition’s  experiments 
the  special  fitness  of  the  artist  for  his  task  is  not 
always  taken  into  account,  and  we  have  in  New 
York  and  throughout  the  country  many  examples 
done  by  artists  distinguished  in  other  fields,  which 
fail  for  lack  of  experience  with  the  metier. 

Mr.  Mowbray’s  frieze  in  the  Appellate  Court 
is  an  excellent  example  of  strictly  mural  painting; 
Mr.  Blashfield’s  pendentives  in  the  dome  of  the 
Hudson  County  Court  House,  in  Jersey  City, 
and,  above  all,  the  decoration  of  the  Criminal 
Court  Room  of  the  Essex  County  Court  House, 
in  Newark,  by  Henry  Oliver  Walker,  fulfil  ad- 


DETAIL  VAULTED  CEILING  WITH  DECORATIVE  PANELS,  BY  H.  SIDDONS  MOWBRAY 
MORGAN  LIBRARY  (PAGE  445) 


DRAWING  FOR  PANEL  ON  MORGAN  LIBRARY  ( NOT  EXECUTED) 
BY  ANDREW  O’CONNOR,  SCULPTOR  (PAGE  445) 


✓ 


RANDOM  DECORATIONS 


449 


mirably  the  mission  of  decoration.  The  render¬ 
ing  of  the  latter  is  as  flat  as  tapestry,  and  the 
picture,  in  beautiful  colour,  lies  upon  the  surface 
of  the  wall  with  all  the  effect  of  fresco.  Mr. 
Dodge’s  handsome  frieze  in  the  Hotel  Devon,  rich 
in  autumnal  colouring,  is  preeminently  the  work 
of  a  mural  painter.  Low-toned,  harmonious,  and 
joyous,  the  groups  of  festival  procession  hand¬ 
somely  fit  the  place  and  make  a  rich,  glowing 
effect  of  warmth  and  comfort. 

The  seven  carefully  finished,  exquisitely  drawn 
lunettes  of  the  tea-room  of  the  St.  Regis  Hotel, 
by  Robert  Van  Vorst  Sewell,  on  the  contrary,  de¬ 
feat  the  purpose  of  decoration.  They  “  illustrate  ” 
the  story  of  Cupid  and  Psyche.  The  same  is  even 
more  true  of  Abbey’s  “  Bowling  Green,”  over 
the  bar  of  the  Hotel  Imperial,  which  is  essen¬ 
tially  an  illustration;  while  Maxfield  Parrish’s 
popular  “  Old  King  Cole,”  that  quaintly  humor¬ 
ous  panel  in  the  Knickerbocker  bar,  delightful  as 
it  is,  is  illustration  rather  than  decoration.  His 
panel  over  the  mantelpiece  of  the  “  Meeting 
House  ”  has  the  same  prodigality  of  finish,  though 
in  this  case  the  room  is  small  and  the  mantel  low, 
so  that  though  technically  a  decoration,  the  panel 
has  all  the  accessibility  of  an  easel  picture. 

The  Hotel  Knickerbocker,  besides  its  handsome 


450  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


Parrish — of  which  Arnold  Bennett,  whisked  there 
immediately  after  his  first  arrival  in  this  country, 
said:  “  I  found  it  rather  fine  and  apposite,” — con¬ 
tains  a  fanciful  decoration  in  high  key  by  James 
Wall  Finn,  “  The  Masque  of  Flora,”  and  in  the 
dining  room  two  small  bronze  fountains  by  Fred¬ 
erick  MacMonnies,  designed  for  their  setting,  but 
never  properly  attached,  so  that,  instead  of  joy¬ 
ously  spurting,  a  dismal  trickle  issues  from  the 
aperture  and  the  boys’  gestures  lose  point. 

C.  Y.  Turner  and  Kenyon  Cox  are  represented 
in  the  Manhattan  Hotel,  the  former  by  a  series  of 
historic  panels,  the  latter  by  some  overdoor 
lunettes.  These,  of  course,  are  very  professional 
in  handling.  Mr.  Turner  is  better  seen  in  the  two 
panels  for  the  De  Witt  Clinton  High  School,  illus¬ 
trating  the  “  Opening  of  the  Erie  Canal,”  realistic 
scenes,  educational  in  purpose,  representing  the 
“  Marriage  of  the  Waters  ”  and  “  Entering  the 
Mohawk  Valley.”  Barry  Faulkner’s  twelve  pan¬ 
els  for  the  Washington  Irving  High  School, 
though  inspired  by  the  “  Knickerbocker  History 
of  New  York,”  are  treated  in  an  allegorical  and 
conventional  way,  preserving  the  decorative  quality 
of  the  walls. 

The  decoration  of  the  Della  Robbia  Room  of 
the  Vanderbilt  Hotel,  done  by  Smeraldi,  a  clever 


RANDOM  DECORATIONS 


451 


Italian,  in  imitation  of  the  famous  Chambre  des 
Singes,  of  the  chateau  of  Chantilly,  is  an  example 
of  consistent  and  agreeable  interior  decoration, 
charmingly  adapted  to  its  destination. 

New  York  contains  an  important  and  imposing 
decoration  by  Edwin  Howland  Blashfield  in  his 
“  Graduate,”  a  large  lunette  in  the  great  hall  of 
the  City  College,  done  in  1908,  and  representing 
the  artist’s  most  mature  period.  The  panel  gains 
distinction  partly  through  Mr.  Blashfield’s  choice 
of  a  colossal  figure  for  the  central  focus  of  the 
composition,  and  partly  by  reason  of  the  effective 
arrangement  of  the  light  and  the  strong  contrasts 
of  shadow. 

Wisdom,  the  large  central  figure,  presides,  hold¬ 
ing  in  her  lap  the  earth,  and  turning  towards  the 
spectator  the  Western  Hemisphere.  The  light 
which  floods  the  centre  of  the  canvas  proceeds 
from  a  fire  burning  on  a  low  altar  at  her  feet. 
Above,  in  a  semicircular  arrangement  of  smoke, 
which  curls  aloft  from  the  fire,  float  Wisdom’s 
tributaries,  with  books  and  scrolls,  and  below  her 
pedestal,  in  a  long,  curved  line,  sit  the  symbolic 
figures  of  the  great  centres  of  learning,  the  uni¬ 
versities,  personified  by  graceful  and  character¬ 
istic  feminine  forms. 

The  Graduate  stands  before  the  throne  of  Wis- 


452  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


dom,  receiving  from  his  Alma  Mater  the  scroll 
and  carrying  the  torch  of  learning  which  he  has 
just  lighted  at  the  altar.  To  the  right  of  these 
two  dark  figures — the  Graduate  and  the  Alma 
Mater — on  a  lower  plane  stands  Discipline,  clothed 
in  red,  holding  a  sword  and  a  scourge;  she  waits 
to  accompany  the  Graduate  through  life.  To  the 
right  and  left  of  the  centre  sit  groups  of  the 
immortals,  and  below  the  composition  is  balanced 
by  larger  groups  of  students,  seen  rather  in  the 
literal  vein,  while  the  rest  of  the  figures  are 
symbolical. 

The  loiterer  genuinely  interested  in  mural  paint¬ 
ing  should  not  neglect  to  make  the  short  trip 
to  Jersey  City  and  Newark  to  visit  the  two 
elaborately  decorated  court -liouses  of  those  cities. 
There  is  nothing  to  compare  with  them  in  New 
York  in  the  magnitude  of  the  undertaking,  and 
they  contain  a  great  deal  that  is  interesting  in  its 
bearing  on  decoration  in  this  country. 

The  Hudson  County  Court  House  was  designed 
by  Hugh  Roberts,  architect,  and  the  general 
colour  scheme  of  the  building  was  entrusted  to 
Francis  D.  Millet,  whose  work  therein  was  fin¬ 
ished  a  few  months  before  he  was  lost  on  the 
Titanic.  The  decorations  include  the  dome,  orna¬ 
mentally  treated  and  embellished  with  the  signs  of 


Reproduced  by  courtesy  of  The  Meeting  House 


“PROVING  IT  BY  THE  BOOK,”  DECORATION  BY  MAXFIELD  PARRISH 
IN  THE  MEETING  HOUSE  (PAGE  449) 


4 


RANDOM  DECORATIONS 


453 


the  zodiac,  carried  out  by  Aderente  and  Foringer, 
who  assisted  Mr.  Blashfield  in  his  panel,  “  The 
Graduate.”  The  four  figures  of  Fame,  each 
holding  a  shield,  with  a  medallion  portrait,  are 
characteristic  examples  of  decoration  by  Mr. 
Blashfield.  The  main  rotunda  contains  four  large 
lunettes  treated  realistically,  of  which  two  are  by 
Millet  and  two  by  C.  Y.  Turner,  and  besides  these 
there  are  twelve  tiny  panels  in  monochrome,  which 
illustrate  events  in  the  history  of  Jersey  City. 
The  vaulting  of  the  corridor  corners  by  Kenyon 
Cox  is  conceived  in  a  better  spirit  of  classic  deco¬ 
ration  and  is  rather  fine  in  colour. 

The  intention  of  the  painting  throughout  is 
educational  rather  than  decorative.  It  deals  with 
concrete  facts  of  history,  literally  rendered,  with 
a  wealth  of  circumstantial  evidence,  all  of  which 
is  very  interesting  from  the  standpoint  of  informa¬ 
tion.  This  is  notably  true  of  Howard  Pyle’s  his¬ 
torical  frieze  in  the  Freeholders’  Room,  which  con¬ 
sists  of  three  large  panels  depicting,  with  photo¬ 
graphic  accuracy,  the  “  Arrival  of  the  Half 
Moon,”  “  The  Dutch  Settlement,”  and  “  The 
Coming  of  the  English.”  Pyle  has  loaded  the 
spaces,  just  as  he  did  his  book  illustrations,  with 
authentic  details  of  costume  and  accessories,  most 
of  which  are  invisible  to  the  naked  eye,  but  with- 


454  A  LOITERER  IN  NEW  YORK 


out  which  this  master  of  detail  would  never  have 
been  satisfied. 

The  Essex  County  Court  House  at  Newark 
was  built  by  Cass  Gilbert,  architect,  and  the  deco¬ 
rations  were  supervised  by  Arthur  R.  Willet,  who 
planned  the  general  colour  scheme  and  made  some 
minor  accessories.  Mr.  Blashfield  made  the  pen- 
dentives  to  the  dome,  and  there  are  panels  in  the 
various  court  rooms  by  Kenyon  Cox,  Will  H. 
Low,  Francis  D.  Millet,  Howard  Pyle,  Henry 
Oliver  Walker,  George  W.  Maynard,  and  C.  Y. 
Turner.  The  exterior  sculpture  of  the  building  is 
bv  Andrew  O’Connor. 

These  two  court-houses  represent  the  ultimate 
fruition  of  that  initial  movement  in  decoration 
which  was  started  by  the  Chicago  fair.  The 
£enius  and  ability  there  discovered  was  all  too 
rapidly  organized  and  turned  to  commercial  ac¬ 
count,  so  that  the  impetus  given  soon  wore  itself 
out  and  resulted  in  the  founding  of  no  school  of 
American  decoration,  as  might  have  been  hoped. 
There  has  been,  so  to  speak,  no  suite,  no  succes¬ 
sion,  and  with  the  passing  of  this  generation  of 
mural  painters  none  other  is  rising  to  take  its 
place. 


END 


